#Man is bricked up in a second and paying for another round

[nemo-writes]

𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚜 ; 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 - 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢

➝ steve harrington + eddie munson x loser-club!reader

➝ synopsis; between a dramatic clash of personalities, sharp banter, and a hilariously failed attempt at heroics, you find moments of peace, reminding you that even in hawkins, surprises���both good and bad—are never far away.

⚠️ warnings; none

⟡ story masterlist ; previous I next

✦ word count: 3.4k

Tuesday 4, March 1986, Hawkins, Indiana

You moved through the motions of your shift, but your usual efficiency was laced with tension. Every interaction grated against your nerves, and your patience wore thinner with each passing second.  

“Another round over here!” A voice hollered from the far end of the room.  

“I heard you the first time,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing a tray and spinning toward the taps.  

The news from Sam that morning still lingered like a weight pressing on your chest. He’d called you over to the shop, a rare serious look on his face as he gestured towards your bike.  

“It’s almost done,” he’d said, his tone cautious, like he was bracing himself. “But... I don’t know how to say this. The cost is gonna be higher than I estimated.”  

“How much higher?” you’d asked, your voice tight.  

When he’d told you the number, your stomach had dropped. Paying him would cut deep into your savings—savings meant for California, for your freedom, for the life you were supposed to be chasing.  

You’d thanked him with a strained smile and left, pretending the weight of his words hadn’t hit you like a brick. But now, hours later, the frustration was boiling over, spilling into every interaction you had with the patrons.  

“Sweetheart, I’ve been waitin’ for ten minutes here!”  

You turned sharply toward the man at the bar, fixing him with a glare that made him sit back slightly. “And you’ll wait a little longer,” you said flatly, slamming a glass down onto the counter.  

“Hey,” Bev’s voice cut through the din, sharp but not unkind. She leaned against the bar, her gaze steady as she waited for you to meet her eyes.  

You sighed, straightening up and trying to school your expression.  

“Come on, kid,” she said, her voice softer now. “I’m sorry for whatever’s got you twisted up. But you’re snapping at customers, and that’s not gonna help anything.”  

You hesitated, hugging the tray close to your chest. She wasn’t wrong.  

Bev studied you for a moment, then jerked her chin toward the bar area. “Tell you what. You take the bar and stocking tonight. Less chatter, more busywork. Sound good?”  

Relief flooded through you, though you didn’t let it show beyond a small nod. “Thanks....and sorry”  

She smirked, her tone lightening as she walked past you. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t break anything, okay?”  

You huffed a quiet laugh despite yourself and turned toward the shelves, focusing on the simple task of restocking the bar. The repetitive motions steadied you a little, though the weight of your situation still loomed in the back of your mind.  

Stuck in Hawkins. For who knows how long.  

The thought gnawed at you, but for now, you focused on the bottles and glasses, letting the rhythm of work drown out the noise in your head. 

Tuesday’s at The Hideout also meant one thing: Eddie and Corroded Coffin.

Normally, you’d steel yourself for Eddie’s dramatic entrance, ready to volley back whatever teasing comments he threw your way. But tonight, the thought of him barging in, loud and over-the-top as always, made your sour mood twist into something heavier. You weren’t in the headspace for it.

You were restocking glasses under the bar when the bell above the door jingled. You sighed, preparing yourself for Eddie’s arrival.

“Here we go,” you muttered under your breath, standing up and brushing off your hands. But when you glanced up, your words froze.

It wasn’t Eddie.

It was Steve.

He stepped inside with a hesitant air, his gaze darting around the room before landing on you. His shoulders eased, and he offered you a small, almost bashful wave.

Trailing after him was the girl you’d seen with him outside the arcade. She was speaking in low, sharp hisses, clearly in the middle of an argument with him.

“You could’ve told me we were actually coming here,” she muttered, her tone tinged with exasperation.

“I did tell you,” Steve replied, his voice a mix of frustration and defensiveness.

“Yeah, after we were already halfway here,” she shot back, crossing her arms.

They reached the bar, Steve looking sheepish while the girl gave him a sharp side-eye. She turned her attention to you, and suddenly her features lit up with recognition. 

“Oh,” she exclaimed, her tone bright. “You’re the girl from the arcade!”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you’re Peeper #2,” you replied, your tone flat but not unfriendly.

They both winced, but the girl just still offered you her hand. “It’s Robin actually.” 

You shook it briefly. “Nice to meet you, Robin.”

Steve cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “So, uh, I figured I’d stop by,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, after you said I should drop in. And, uh, treat me for, you know... Callahan being a pain in the ass.”

You nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite your sour mood. “Guess I’m a woman of my word.”

Robin snorted, glancing at Steve with mock amazement. “Wow, Harrington. A free drink offer? She must really pity you.”

“Robin!” Steve groaned, his ears turning pink. “Don’t scare her off, okay?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Don’t worry. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Robin leaned against the counter, glancing around. “So, what’s good here? Or is it all as sketchy as it looks?”

You smirked, pointing at the chalkboard menu behind you. “Depends on your standards. But if you’re brave, I can mix something decent.”

Steve sighed, dropping into a stool and giving you a sheepish smile. “I appreciate it. I think.”

As you grabbed a glass and began preparing something for them, you couldn’t help but feel a small weight lift. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be as bad as you thought.

You quickly found out that Steve and Robin didn’t just talk—they bantered, a lot.

From the moment they settled at the bar, their conversation unfolded like a rapid-fire volley, filled with quips, sarcastic remarks, and exaggerated exasperation. 

“You know, if you’d actually planned this outing,” Robin said, gesturing around the bar, “we wouldn’t be stuck in this charming establishment with its—what is that, piss?”

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning back on the stool. “It’s a bar, Robin. Not some five-star restaurant.”

“Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “I was expecting something a little less sticky.”

“It’s not that bad,” Steve countered, glancing at you for backup. “Right?”

You shrugged, a small smirk on your lips. “Depends on the night.”

Robin groaned, flopping dramatically against the bar. “I’m doomed.”

Despite their constant bickering, you quickly found yourself more entertained than annoyed. They had an easy, natural rhythm, bouncing off each other like they’d known one another for years. And while you weren’t in the best mood, it was nice to let their chatter fill the space.

To your surprise, they didn’t pull you into their whirlwind of conversation unless you wanted to join. Whether they somehow sensed your sour mood or it was just how they operated, they mostly talked amongst themselves, throwing in a quip or a question your way every now and then.

“Okay, serious question,” Robin said, propping her chin on her hand. “If you had to pick one: being stuck in a room with Steve’s hair products or drowning in a vat of hairspray?”

“Robin,” Steve groaned, his face reddening.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at Steve’s perfectly tousled hair. “Depends. Does the hairspray smell like coconuts?”

Robin snorted with laughter while Steve threw his hands up in exasperation.

As the night went on, their antics worked to lighten your mood. Through their casual back-and-forth, you picked up bits and pieces about Hawkins—how the town had its quirks, its strange small-town charm, and some of it's not-so-charming secrets. Robin joked about the weird “energy” of the place, while Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t outright deny it.

Overall, you found yourself genuinely liking the pair. They were easy to be around, their personalities both contrasting and complementing in a way that made their dynamic endlessly entertaining.

At one point, between pouring drinks and stocking the bar, you raised an eyebrow at the two of them and asked, “So, are you two... together?”

Robin froze mid-sentence, her face twisting into an expression of pure horror.

“Absolutely not!” She exclaimed, throwing up her hands like the idea was physically repelling.

“Wow, thanks, Robin,” Steve muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

She turned to him, gesturing wildly. “Oh, don’t even start, Harrington! As if you’re my type.”

Steve sighed dramatically, looking at you. “See? This is what I deal with.”

Robin jabbed a finger at him. “You wish you had what it takes to deal with me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their bickering, shaking your head as you wiped down the bar. “Got it. Definitely not together.”

“Not even remotely,” Robin confirmed, her tone sharp but playful.

The rest of the night passed in much the same way, with the two of them keeping the atmosphere light and surprisingly enjoyable. By the time your shift began to wind down, your earlier sour mood had softened considerably.

You were in a much better mood by the time Eddie finally showed up. The moment the door creaked open, the familiar sound of Corroded Coffin’s chatter spilling in behind him, you glanced up from wiping down the bar.

Eddie stepped inside with his usual dramatic flair, but his eyes scanned the room almost immediately. It was obvious he was looking for you.

When his gaze landed on you, a grin started to form—until he noticed who was sitting at the bar.

Steve.

Eddie’s steps faltered, and his entire demeanour shifted in an instant. His smile vanished, his shoulders squared, and something sharp and unpleasant flickered across his face. Behind him, his friends quieted, their chatter dissolving into murmurs as they noticed the sudden tension.

Before they could stop him, Eddie stomped up to the bar, his boots heavy against the floor. He reached your side and planted a ringed hand on the counter, the metal clinking against the wood as he leaned in between you and Steve, effectively invading Steve’s space.

His grin returned, but this time it was all teeth, far from friendly. “Harrington,” Eddie drawled, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Steve, who had been sitting comfortably moments ago, now stiffened, his scowl deepening as he leaned back slightly to create some space. “Munson,” he said curtly, his voice dry and unimpressed.

Robin, perched on the stool beside Steve, widened her eyes and glanced between the two of them, her usual snarky demeanour replaced with a mix of wonder and mild anxiety. She didn’t say anything, though—just clutched her drink a little tighter, as if waiting to see what would happen.

“Eddie,” you said flatly, breaking the charged silence, “can I help you?”

He didn’t look at you, his eyes still locked on Steve’s. “Just wondering what he’s doing here.”

“Having a drink,” Steve replied before you could answer, his voice edged with irritation. “Is that a problem?”

Eddie leaned closer, practically chest-to-chest with Steve now, his grin a sharp, mocking thing. “Didn’t think the King of Hawkins High would lower himself to a place like this. Must be slumming it for kicks.”

Steve, not one to back down, leaned right back into Eddie’s space, his scowl deepening. “At least I don’t live here like some kind of wannabe rock star with no plan B.”

The two of them were nose-to-nose now, voices rising as they hurled insults back and forth. You could feel the heat of their argument building, pulling the attention of a few patrons nearby. 

You sighed heavily, tossing your rag onto the counter. Men. 

Without a word, you reached for the pitcher of water you’d been using to refill glasses, picked it up, and splashed both of them square in the face.

The reaction was immediate.

Eddie sputtered, stepping back as water dripped from his hair and onto his jacket. Steve blinked rapidly, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket as if trying to comprehend what just happened.

Robin, meanwhile, doubled over with laughter, clutching the edge of the bar as she nearly slid off her stool. “Oh my God!” she wheezed, tears forming in her eyes. “That was amazing!”

You set the pitcher down with a loud clunk, fixing both Eddie and Steve with a flat, unimpressed stare. “Feel better?”

They both turned to you, looking for all the world like wounded puppies, their egos soaked as much as their clothes.

“You,” you said, pointing at Eddie, “go set up. Now. Stop antagonising my guests.”

Eddie blinked, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words.

“And yes,” you continued, your tone sharp, “my guests. I invited them. So, maybe don’t chase off the people keeping this place open.”

Steve smirked faintly at that, clearly enjoying Eddie getting called out, but you weren’t done.

“And you,” you said, rounding on him, “stop letting him get under your skin.”

Steve’s smirk vanished, replaced by a sheepish look as he muttered, “Right. Got it.”

Eddie threw his hands up dramatically. “Fine. I’ll go set up,” he muttered, stomping off toward the stage with his friends trailing behind, a few of them stifling laughter at his expense.

Robin, still giggling, leaned back in her seat, shaking her head. “You’ve got some serious guts,” she said, wiping her eyes. “That was worth every second of this mess.”

You huffed. “Someone’s gotta keep them in line. Might as well be me.”

Steve shook his hair, getting water everywhere and earning a stinky eye from you and a smirk from him. “Remind me not to piss you off,” he added.

You smirked faintly but didn’t respond, focusing instead on mopping up once again the mess you’d made. 

It didn't take long for the Corroded Coffin was up and jamming, the bass thumping loudly through The Hideout. The memory of your last headache and the accompanying nosebleed lingered in your mind, making the noise feel sharper than it probably was.  

You leaned over to Bev, who was busy filling drink orders. “Hey, can I take my break?” you asked, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the music.  

Bev gave you a quick glance, her sharp eyes catching something in your expression. She nodded. “Go ahead. You’re due for one anyway. Just don’t vanish on me.”  

You nodded back with a faint smile, grabbing your things and slipping out the side door into the crisp night air.  

The cool breeze was an instant relief, washing away some of the tension as you settled down onto the concrete. Leaning back against the building’s wall, you stretched your legs out and absently reached into your jacket. Your fingers brushed against the crumpled cigarette packet tucked inside—a habit you hadn’t entirely kicked, even if you weren’t actively smoking anymore.  

You pulled it out, turning it over in your hands. The weight of the remaining cigarettes and lighter inside was familiar, almost comforting in its own way. You didn’t even realise you were fiddling with it until the door behind you creaked open.  

Glancing back, you expected a customer or maybe Bev checking in, but it was Steve.  

He stepped out, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, as he glanced around briefly before his eyes landed on you.  

“Robin’s in the bathroom,” he said, stepping closer. “Figured I’d leave her to... whatever she’s doing and come see what you’re up to.”  

You snorted softly, shaking your head as you tucked the packet into your lap.  

Steve’s eyes lingered on it for a moment before he asked, “Didn’t know you smoked.”  

“I don’t,” you said, looking down at the packet. “Quit. But I still carry these around, I guess out of habit.”  

Steve tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “How long did you smoke for?”  

You hesitated, your fingers brushing the edge of the packet. “Since I was like…twelve, maybe thirteen.”  

“Twelve?” he repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. “That’s—” He paused, catching himself. “That’s young. Why’d you start?”  

Your brow furrowed slightly as you tried to remember. “I don’t really know,” you admitted after a moment. “I guess it just happened.”  

Steve hummed thoughtfully, leaning back on his hands. “You think you’ll ever go back to it?”  

“Maybe,” you said honestly, your tone light but dry. “Old habits die hard and all that.”  

Steve straightened up slightly, his tone suddenly more serious. “If you don’t want to, I could help... or something.”  

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the offer. His earnest expression made it hard to brush him off, so instead, curiosity got the better of you. “Sure. Why not?”  

Before you could react, Steve snatched the packet from your lap and stood up in one quick motion.  

“Wait—what are you—”  

He didn’t let you finish, dramatically hurling the packet into the bushes with a flourish.  

“Done,” Steve declared with exaggerated flair, dusting his hands together as if he’d just solved a major crisis. But as soon as his arms came down, he winced sharply, clutching at his shoulder.

“Ahhh—ow, ow, ow!” he cried out, his voice rising in a high-pitched, almost comical shrillness.

You blinked, stunned for half a second before the absurdity of the situation hit you like a truck. Laughter burst out of you, loud and uncontrollable, as Steve clutched at his arm, his face twisting in both pain and embarrassment.

“What?!” he asked, his voice cracking as he turned to glare at you. “What’s so funny? This hurts!”

Through your laughter, you managed to gasp out, “You—you pulled a muscle... from a throw like that?”

Steve scowled, his cheeks flushing as he rubbed at his shoulder. “It was a big throw, alright? Those things are heavier than they look!”

That only made you laugh harder, clutching at your sides as you doubled over.

“What?!” Steve snapped again, his tone incredulous.

Through your wheezing, you managed to choke out, “My... my favourite lighter was in there!”

His face drained of colour as he froze, staring at you like you’d just told him the world was ending. “Wait, you’re joking.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “Nope. Not even a little.”

Groaning loudly, Steve spun toward the bushes, still rubbing at his shoulder as he stomped over. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath. “Ow—damn it—fine, I’ll find it!”

The door creaked open again, and Robin stepped out, freezing when she saw Steve bent over the bushes, rustling through the leaves, and you sitting on the ground, practically wheezing with laughter.

“Uh,” Robin started, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “What the hell is going on here?”

You waved a hand, trying to catch your breath, though the sight of Steve grumbling and digging frantically through the bushes sent you into another fit of giggles.

“Don’t ask!” Steve called out, his voice muffled and irritated.

Robin tilted her head, her lips twitching as though she was trying not to smile. “This looks like... something.”

Finally catching your breath, you leaned back against the wall and grinned up at her. “Steve’s just trying to fix his heroic screw-up.”

Robin snorted, glancing toward Steve, who let out a triumphant “Aha!” as he pulled your lighter from the bushes.

He turned around, holding it up like a trophy—only to stumble on a branch as he climbed out, nearly falling flat on his face.

Robin rolled her eyes, finally letting herself laugh. “Unbelievable.”

Steve handed you the lighter, his face pink and his expression sheepish. “There,” he muttered, still rubbing at his shoulder. “Happy?”

You smirked, pocketing it. “Very. Thanks, Harrington. You’re a real knight in shining armour.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but you caught the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Robin clapped her hands together. “Alright, clowns, are we heading back inside, or should I grab some popcorn and watch this disaster unfold further?”

You pushed yourself up from the ground, dusting off your pants as you shot Robin an amused look. “Let’s go before Bev wonders where I am.”

As the three of you headed back inside, Steve muttered, “I’m never helping again,” though the smile tugging at his lips told a different story.

divider credit

[f10werfae]

The Build Up

Pairing:Husb!Construction!Chris Evans x Pregnant!Reader

warnings: none

summary: Nothing better than a visit by the Mrs at the local construction site. Chris is a major dilf and family man. Lots of fluff and steamy implications

- Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

Welcome To The Fae Station: Full masterlist💫

Library of Chris Evans: Full Chris Masterlist✨

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(Chris' P.O.V)

The scorching sun was horrific, sending waves of sweat and stench to our construction site. Loads of us men having to strip down to the likes of our white vests, our reflective vests long forgotten.

“Oi Chris, when do we get to meet this missus of yours?” John called from the other side of the house we were working on, a new A lister client.

“When I want ya to” I chuckled back, watching him shake his head before going back to nailing parts together, the other guys laughing along with a rag or two being thrown at me.

“Yeah literally all we know is that her name is Y/n, and that’s because her names on your chest dude” Logan commented gesturing to the ink on my chest, positioned right above where my heart would be.

Shaking my head, I just continued on shovelling gravel into the ground before levelling out, trying not to let the heat get to me.

“Look all ya need to know is that m'a happily married man alright?”

“Yes sir”

Despite the harsh weather, I knew i’d never trade my job in. The pay was good, the hours are negotiable, what else could I really settle for? Not to mention it saves me from having to go to the gym three or four times a week.

So lost in thought I didn’t even realise my phone in my back pocket had started going off, setting down my shovel by the brick wall I answered it.

“Baby, i’m here” I heard that sweet honey-like voice of hers say, a smile instantly flying onto my face when I heard her words of endearment. The guys wiggling their eyebrows at me once they saw the smile on my face, they musta caught onto who was on the phone.

“Where abouts are ya precious?” I tried to say as quietly as possible, not wanting to attract attention to it.

“Mmm I’m by the street light on the right, you forgot your lunch again hun” With that motherly scolding voice of hers, I felt myself cower a little before turning to the right, seeing her gorgeous self there. Graced in a short flowly blue floral summer dress, I instantly felt myself swoon, the baby stroller sitting right beside her.

“Gotta go boys, I won’t be long” I breathed out leaving my equipment, walking down the street, my steps getting faster the closer I got.

Y/n's arms outstretched inviting me in for a hug,

“Baby I stink, and i’m sweaty. I don’t know if you’d wanna hug me right now” I said stepping back a little, a pout forming on those kissable lips of hers.

“I don’t care, I wanna hug from my husband”

“Alright c'mere” I growled pulling her in by her hand, her arms going around my neck as I encircled around her waist. Her sweet vanilla scent taking away the industrial smell of the site.

“Didn' I tell ya not to come here? The fumes aren’t good for you or the kids” I scolded back, my hands going to settle on her visible rounded stomach housing our second baby, another boy.

“I know, but I missed you, and so did Noah” She said in a smaller voice, turning around to pick up our 1 year old, his hands stuffed in his mouth.

“There’s my little man” I beamed taking him into my arms, his face overlooking my shoulder as I brought Y/n in closer, my lips catching her in a soft passionate kiss. Only separating when we heard the men behind us cheering, giggles leaving us both as our foreheads rested against each others.

“You better get home early, you know what this does to me”

She whispered against my lips, her hands trailing down my chest in the white vest, her hands resting on the surface of my stomach, kisses being pressed into my chest.

“gah you need to stop bein so distracting, thought you were gonna be good this time?” I teased settling Noah back into his stroller, my hands going to cup my beautiful wife's face, her pregnancy glow making her even more irresistible.

“Sorry baby, but baby here jus missed his daddy” She teased biting her lip a little,

“Oh but he’s not the only one now is he?”

“Hmm nope. Not my fault you look so handsome all built up like this, you look like such a good daddy”

“Is that right?” I whispered, her nose nuzzling against mine

“Oi Chris, you gonna introduce us or what?” I heard Logan say behind us, rolling my eyes I turned around to see the whole lot of them lookin at us.

“Y/n honey, meet the boys, boys this is my wife Y/n and our son Noah”

“Cute. So how did yall meet? There’s no way this sweaty mess of a man just met a soft n'elegant woman like yourself outta nowhere”

“Chris didn’t tell you guys how we met?” Y/n asked curiously, knowing damn well that’s my go to story every time we meet someone new.

With all of them shaking my head she started off with,

“Well before Chris had his own construction company, he actually freelanced around my hometown fixin stuff for whoever. I had come home from college and I was like 22, to see this hunk fixin one of my ma's broken windows. Trust me I was in shock, but then I found out he was a bit older. But that didn’t stop us, did it Chrissy?”

“Chrissy?” Steven snorted

“Shut up Steven if you wanna job tomorrow” I snarked back, my ears feeling warmer at the embarrassment.

“Okay but we wanna know the whole story” Logan said pushing further,

“How about y’all come over to our house tomorrow night for dinner? we'd love to have ya, and i’ll tell ya how we got together” Y/n said happily, god she was so caring and welcoming.

“Is that alright with you boss” I heard someone call out from behind.

“yeah, anything to make the wife happy”

[angrythingstarlight]

ok so I walked past road maintenance today and saw the broadest worker I've ever seen, like biceps bigger than my head and sleeve tattoos, like so beefy I choked and went jesus christ on a stick. thank god for masks bc my mouth was open like a fool.

basically here's an award 🏆💕 for your beautiful writing that's trained my brain to immediately think about beefy construction worker!Bucky

Imagine: Beefy construction worker Bucky asking you out.

You hated the noise outside your place. The constant drilling, banging, and the loud, obnoxious chatter from men across the street. Maybe if they shut up for five minutes, they could actually get some work done. At this rate, they’re going to be here all summer.

Until a few days ago, you naively believed that construction men catcalling women was a joke, some stereotype blown out of proportion.

You were very mistaken.

The things they yelled at you as you crossed the street had you almost jogging to your car, your face burning from embarrassment.  Hands shaking from anger. You wish you could say something but you're outnumbered.

Each day it happened, you could never get used to it. Dread filled your stomach like lead, and you started walking with your head down, avoiding eye contact.

You were hastily making your way to your car when you bumped into a brick wall. A warm, breathing brick wall. You stumbled back, losing your balance. The wall grasped your arm, keeping you from falling back into the dew covered grass.

“Sorry about that, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice trails off when you connect with a pair of stunning blue eyes. His dark, damp hair hanging in clumps over his forehead.

“No, it’s my fault-“ You apologize, losing yourself in his kind eyes. The spell broken when you hear a low whistle and a vulgar insult is lobbed at you from an older balding man across the street. He's one of the worst, the sound of his grating voice makes you feel nauseated.

You turn back man in front of you. Looking past his tan tattooed biceps, you see the familiar set of construction pants. He's one of them. You're upset and mortified, picturing them having a laugh at your expense later.

"Why can't you guys just leave me alone? Yanking your arm out of his loose grip, you flee to your car. 

“Wait! Hold up, what’s wrong?” He asks, stopping when he hears the jeers from across the street. He watches your hands tremble as you turn the steering wheel.

The next day, you steel yourself to face another round of insults but when you pass the site, a whole new crew is working. 

That’s...interesting. 

Mostly new. You spot a large familiar figure leaning against a pile of wood, tossing his hard hat between his hands, stopping every few seconds to look around the street. 

He combed his hair back today, you like it. You blink at that thought, mentally shaking it off.

You’re almost in your car when you hear the sounds of boots hitting the pavement. A rush of nerves swoops through you and you almost drop your keys when you hear his deep, smooth voice.

“Good morning.” 

“Morning.” You reply curtly, your tone sharper than you intended. If he notices, he doesn’t react. 

“I want to apologize for those idiots if I had known, I would have put an end to it weeks ago.” He says sincerely, his eyes never leaving your face.

Bucky had lost his shit yesterday when he found out what they had been saying to and about you.

Bucky wipes his forehead off with his arm, you notice the black and white trees inked into bicep. An army tattoo across his forearm.

He’s panting from the jog across the street, dog tags visible under his thin white cotton shirt sticking to his chest.

“I was thinking that maybe I could take you out sometime?” 

 His hopeful blue eyes are warm and inviting. Still. You’re wary and he could be playing you. . And you refuse to get hurt again.

 “I don’t go out with strangers.” You retort, ignoring the pang in your heart when his face drops.

“Oh, okay.” Disappointment clear in his softening tone, the corner of his lip lifting briefly.

You drive away, watching him walk back to his crew, his steps slower, his head bowed. 

The next morning, he greets you from across the street. “Do you go out with people you do know?”

“I- Maybe.”

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, everyone calls me Bucky. You can call me whatever you like-.”

Slamming your door shut, you see him clutch his hand to his chest. “I’ll try again tomorrow.” He shouts before you turn the corner. 

Each morning, he tells you a new fact about himself. Occasionally one or two of his crew chimes in with embarrassing stories that have Bucky grumbling under his breath with a quaint blush on his cheeks. 

You’re really trying to not fall for this man. 

But he’s not playing fair. 

A few days later.

“I read a lot, I’m not great with computers, and I can play-” You pretend that you’re looking for something in your glove box but crack your window to hear him talk about the rest of his interests. 

He calls out, “I know you can hear me, what else do you want to know? Oh c’mon-”  You pulled out, tires screeching. He waves at you as you turn the corner. 

The next morning.

“I have a cat named Alpine.” Bucky holds up his phone, showing off dozens of pictures of his cat. Most of them of the fluffy white fur ball sleeping. Your resolve almost breaks then and there. 

One cloudy afternoon.

“I can cook.” He turned at the scoffing behind him. Hissing shut up before veering back to you. “I can cook two things but I do it so good you’ll never want to eat anything else.” 

Two days later.

“One date.” You turned him down so quickly, his friends laughed, the one Steve you think he’s called almost choked on his turkey club.

“Half a date.” He never explained what half a date was, you were close to asking, but you held back.

A week later.

“A coffee, you like coffee?” You shrugged, and he pumped his fist, muttering progess. 

“How about I put a cup of coffee on your car, I sit all the way over here and we talk?” You didn’t respond, pulling your seatbelt over your chest. “Is that a maybe?”

The next day.

The street is eerily quiet, the men all staring at you. It’s unnerving and you duck your head.

Heading to your car, you stop wheen you see it.

A cup of coffee with a poorly drawn heart sits on the roof of your car, wisps of steam floating from the top. You wipe your hand down your face in a bid to hide your smile.

You pivot on your heel, arms folded across your chest. Bucky’s standing on the corner with a matching cup in his hand. 

“Look, one chance and if you really don’t like me, I’ll leave you alone.” 

“One date.” You break into giggles when the men cheer, shouting finally and about damn time in between clapping Bucky on the back. 

Buckys face glows, his smile making your heart flutter. "You won't regret this. I swear."

[pink-apron]

Music

Part One of the Vendetta series.

Rating: PG :)

Words: 1.2k

Warnings + AN: Hey shawties this is the first chapter! This is the first real fic I've ever written so yes that in itself is a warning. Basically glosses over the first scene in the movie because it's a very uncomfortable watch in the first place and I did not want to write in detail about an attempted assault so. Y'know. Anyway I am sending this out into the void so pls enjoy! :)

A yellow coded curfew is now in effect.

The monotone voice echoed its warning as you rushed through the empty streets of London. How typical, you thought, that the one time you dare act outside of your routine you are late, and breaking protocol, no less.

Looking over your shoulder, you round a corner and run into a rather plump wall, before the plump wall begins to speak.

"Excuse me, miss."

A large man stands before you, dismissing your apology and excuse before another man the plump wall introduces as "Willy" appears.

Your heart catches in your throat as the two men step closer, making obscene and vulgar remarks, the kind of remarks that have you reaching in your coat pocket for mace. One of the men roughly grabs your hand before you brandish the mace as your form of protection before the plump wall reaches into his pocket and brandishes his own; a Fingerman badge.

Your blood runs cold and again and you begin to apologize. More vile threats leave the plump wall's mouth before you attempt to run in a last ditch effort to save yourself, but another wall grabs you, this one armed with a baton. You desperately struggle and cry for help. You broke the rules, you think, and now you pay the price.

Your screams and thoughts are cut off by a voice from the shadows, and peering out, you can see the shadow is masked.

"The multiplying villainies of nature do swarm upon him."

The men stop, and angrily turn and curse in the direction of the shadow.

"Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel which smoked with bloody execution."

The masked shadow steps forward, slicing in half the plump wall's badge -which was presently being brandished as a sort of justification for his transgressions- with a single stroke of his dagger before moving with such grace that you would not expect from a man of his strength, which was on blatant display as he threw Willy into a brick wall.

You watched him as he seemed to dance around the Fingermen in incredible, fluid movements, throwing them around as if they weighed nothing to him. Upon disarming the last of your would-be-assaulters, the masked shadow puts his weapon down to his side.

Was this an attempt of mercy, you wondered? Kneeling on the floor from being thrown aside, you peer up at the shadow, attempting to gauge his intentions from the details of his mask. You wince as, suddenly, he's punched but then he's moving again, throwing the failed attempt at mercy into a wall. He walks over to Willy, who is now on the floor, crying out for help much like you yourself were just moments ago.

"We are oft to blame in this- 'tis too much proved- that with devotion's visage and pious action, we do sugar o'er the devil himself."

The masked shadow moves to strike Willy down, for good this time, you think to yourself. After peering down at Willy's motionless body for a moment, either daring him to get up again or making sure he's dead, you can't tell, he walks towards you now with silent footsteps and looming figure as you reach for your mace for the second time tonight.

The shadow stands a few feet in front of you and you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. He wears a Guy Fawkes mask, cropped by a curtain of dark hair. You take in his all black attire, and the way his voice rumbles as he assures you he means you no harm.

"Who are you?" you demand, just barely finding your voice.

"Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask."

Ah, funny, you think sarcastically. You'd say it out loud but, having just seen this man dispose of four Fingermen with ease, you bite your tongue and decide to keep the remark to yourself.

"But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis personae. Voila!"

You flinch at his exclamation and watch almost amusedly as he theatrically suggests the character of the dramatis personae. At some point, his theatrics turn into passion, and his passion quickly spirals into anger. No, not anger, rage, you think to yourself. Producing a dagger more quickly than you can process he slices a "V" into a poster promoting Sutler's values on the bricked wall of the alley as his dialogue comes to a halt. Again, you flinch.

"The only verdict is vengence- a vendetta...", he adds with a deep, rolling voice. His back is turned to you while his mask looks over his shoulder. You have whiplash from his mood swings; you are hanging on to every word he says.

Finally, he turns back to saunter in your direction before he removes his hat and bows deeply, introducing himself as V. V raises his mask from the ground to look at you, and you feel a chill as the smirking mask stares into your soul.

"To whom, might I ask, am I speaking?" V inquires, almost cheerfully as he rises and fixes his hat back on his head.

Introducing yourself, V repeats your name, once as a question, once slowly- as if testing it on his tongue.

"Of course you are", he remarks thoughtfully. You shiver.

"What does that mean?" you ask quietly, afraid of provoking the masked shadow.

"It means that I, like God, do not play with dice and do not believe in coincidence." He offers his gloved hand out to you on the ground slowly, like you are a frightened animal. "Are you hurt?" V quietly asks as you accept his hand. The leather is high quality and cold, and the fingers underneath hold your own with such caution- like he feels you might run from his touch.

Even at standing height, he is much taller than you.

You tell him that you are fine, thanks to him, as you take in his appearance once more. You take note of the multiple daggers he has strapped to either side of his body. They look razor sharp and shine a ghostly silver in the moonlight, though now there is a splash of crimson across several of them.

"I merely played my part. Tell me, though, do you enjoy music?"

"I suppose."

"You see, I'm a musician of sorts", V declares, "and on my way to give very special performance. I would be honored if you could join me". There is a hint of mischief in his voice and again, you feel the mask stare into your soul. No, you think, it's the eyes. The black voids of the mesh eyes are pinning you to your spot, and somehow, it feels as if he is studying your face with a burning intensity.

This is a stranger, you suddenly remember. An armed stranger, whose several blades seem to be instruments of their own, and he better than a musician of some sorts. "I don't think so," you hesitate. "I should be getting home". You hold your coat closer to you out of habit, eyeing V with caution.

"I promise you, it'll be like nothing you've ever seen. And afterwards, you'll return home safely."

[bestiesenpai]

Canidae - Geto Suguru

Ah, my first hybrid au and full on yandere piece for jjk! A momentous occasion, I hope everyone likes it lol, femme reader btw. 7.5k words

part two

Content warnings: pseudo-incest, yandere shit, kidnapping, not a/b/o but there’s mentions of going into heat, size difference(although I’m not sure how well I wrote it), talking about a past murder(but no actual killing), choking, stalking, dumbification, kind of shy/skittish reader, drugging(w/ pills and w/ a syringe), brief mention of drug usage, needles, slimy men...there’s a lot of slimy men in here

(S/N) = stage name

It’s been about two months since you ran away from home. You try not to think about it, but in the quiet moments of the day, the hours that you should be using to sleep before your next shift, during meals and even at work, it creeps up like a sickness that just won’t leave.

You hadn’t wanted to leave your home, even if the people there weren’t really your family by blood. After being adopted by the Getou family in your late childhood, you thought life would get better. They seemed like a wonderful family of fox hybrids, all silky black hair and cunning little smiles. Although they weren’t in your same species family, as a house cat you could get along with them easily, a subtle praise to evolution for making foxes more like cats than dogs.

“Hey house cat, stop sulking by the bar and go talk to customers.” A slap on the wall next to you jolts you out of your thoughts and into the loud and bustling world around you.

“S-sorry boss.” Ducking your head away from your furious boss, you adjust the skimpy shorts and crop top that truly did nothing to hide your skin. Working at a seedy hostess bar wasn’t exactly the plan when you ran away, but they were the only place willing to hire you.

Looking out across the crowded bar floor, at least you didn’t have to worry about going out on the street and handing out flyers to get customers tonight. There were several men of different species and ages, sitting at the bar with dark liquor or having pretty bunny girls pour drinks from overpriced bottles at private tables.

Taking a glance at what table you’d been assigned, your stomach twisted in knots. It was a table full of lion men, their business suits wrinkled beyond hope and their manes even more disheveled than what was normal for a lion.

“Hey pretty kitty!” One of them shouted drunkenly, waving a large clawed hand at you as you shuffled closer.

“H-hello.” Giving a nervous wave, you felt a little better at seeing a coworker - a red panda hybrid - sitting between a few of them.

“Ah this is (S/N), she’s a newbie!” The girl, who called herself Fuyumi, announced. Holding up her glass in salute, she took a sip.

“Fresh meat huh?” Suddenly, all eyes were on you again, but the atmosphere shifted. A predatory look was shared between the group and a few men got up to let you slide into the booth, next to your coworker.

“What a pretty little thing you are.” A lion purred loudly next to you, putting a heavy hand around your arm and squeezing your shoulder.

“T-thank you! Let me- let me pour you a drink?” Shrinking under the weight and his lecherous gaze, you grabbed the liquor bottle they ordered and refilled a few drinks that needed to be topped up. Your ears were pressed flush to your head from the nerves, tail slightly puffed up behind you.

“So, your name is (S/N)?”

“Mhmm!” The stage name was something you thought of on the fly, trying to make it the least like your real name as possible. Accepting a drink from Fuyumi, you tried to ease the anxiety pricking at your skin.

Listening in on a story being told by one of the men, you tried to act like you were paying attention. Faking a smile, laughing loudly and keeping the drinks full - those were the only things on your mind. Not the clients walking by being escorted to secret back rooms or the people so obviously snorting something up at one of the tables in the back.

“(S/N), you’ve been quiet!” The man with his arm around you shook you side to side, his eyes falling to your breasts moving and being squished together when he squeezed you to him. “Tell us about yourself!”

“Uhm-” Taking a quick glance at Fuyumi, you cleared your throat. “Well I’m new to Tokyo-”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He cut you off, an eager look in his eyes. You shook your head obediently. Even if you did have a boyfriend, you couldn’t say yes. You had to be seen as attainable, just within arms reach if they wanted to have you for themselves.

“That’s good, the boys in Tokyo won’t do you any good.” A man to your left chimed in. His shirt was unbuttoned, showing off his hairy chest covered in golden fur. “But the men in Tokyo are a different story.” He winked at you and you forced a giggle up, covering your mouth with your hand to hide your slight displeasure.

“Yeah, what you need is a man, (S/N). You seem so nervous!”

“House cats usually are.” Fuyumi piped up. Grabbing your chin, she pursed your lips with the tips of her white painted claws. “Isn’t that right?” Cooing at you like a baby, she shook your head and turned you to face the men at the table. “(S/N) was so nervous for her interview she nearly cried!”

A round of mocking teases sounded at the table as Fuyumi let go of you, some of them calling you a ‘poor baby’ while others offered to buy you another round of drinks to help you feel better. Your face burned, embarrassment and the close proximity of all the bodies around you making a light sheen of sweat glisten on your skin.

“I’m fine now, though, promise!” Biting your lip, you did as you’d practiced before your shift: putting an arm under your breasts, you pushed it up and tilted your head down, looking up at the men from beneath your lashes. “I feel much better with all these big strong men here.”

It made you sick, the way they all leered at your body and visibly adjusted the front of their pants. Ordering a few more bottles for the table, the sick feeling refused to leave. It clung to the back of your throat, rising bile that refused to be swallowed down.

Hours later, as the sun began to rise and proper members of society were starting to head to work for the morning, you were finally done with work. The table of lions had bought your time for the whole night, their egos boosted by your show of submission.

“You actually did okay tonight, house cat.” Your boss grunted, thumbing through the cash she was counting. “Here’s your cut.” Holding out a handful of bills, you knew better than to question how much was in it. The last time you’d tried to speak up about being shorted, your only window was shattered by a brick and it cost all of your money to fix it.

“Thank you.” Nodding politely, you took it from her hand. It felt slightly larger than normal, but you knew it wasn’t the full amount you’d been promised to receive when you started working. There was always a bit taken off the top, and since you were a newbie, even more.

Quickly changing into baggy sweatpants and a hoodie, you slinked out of the club's back entrance with your hood drawn tightly. Located in the red light district, no one batted an eye at you or where you worked, but it wasn’t them you were worried about.

Running away from home meant running away from the only family you had left, an over controlling big brother with an obsession. An obsession with you. Ever since you met, got adopted all those years ago, he had been infatuated with you.

As a young, freshly teenaged fox, suddenly acquiring a little sister had been exciting. Especially when it turned out you weren’t the same species. He always wanted to be around you, ask you questions about what it was like to be a cat. At first they were innocent, asking about your diet and favorite toys, but as he got older, his interest in you skewed.

You saw the search history on his computer, he spent hours researching cat hybrid heat cycles and when the best time to mate was. He started to go through your phone, taking it away from you under the guise of just being an annoying older brother while secretly looking through all your messages. Always getting jealous if you hung out with friends or didn’t want to sit in his room with him. And his friends knew about his obsession, feeding into it and talking about how much they wished to have a little sister like you, and if he’d be so kind as to share.

Your older brother became more obsessed with you while he was looking for a job after university. Spending hours applying for jobs and going to interviews, he wouldn’t shut up about getting a good job and moving out with you. And when he finally got that good job he always mentioned, that’s when you had to run.

Walking with your head down through the streets, waiting at a crosswalk to pass had you on edge. Just remembering the way he held your hand in public with a grip tight enough to cut off circulation had you shoving your hands into your pockets. A couple walked across the street with their arms around each other, and suddenly the suffocating weight of your brother's arm around your waist as he slept in your bed with you was back.

Forcing air through your lungs, you ran the rest of the way home. It wasn’t a long way to the crummy apartment block you called home and you were inside your cramped studio space and crumpled against the door in no time.

It didn’t always feel good to be in here with it’s water stained ceilings, barely usable pipes and the one, barely big enough window near the front door. You could hardly call it a home, it was just a room with the mattress you bought second hand and the clothes you ran away with strewn across the floor with a tiny kitchen shoved into the corner and a bathroom that surely wasn’t up to code.

But for now, it felt amazing. Your running had only exacerbated the exhaustion you had from working such grueling hours, and just crawling over to your dirty bed took all the energy you had left. With the sun beginning to rise properly into the sky, you closed your eyes and went to sleep.

The sudden alarm from the crappy phone you bought was what woke you up, the early evening sun and the sound of your neighbors yelling at one another through the walls pulling the last few bits of sleep from the edges of your mind.

And so do the set of crystal blue eyes staring in at you from your window, one that not even you can see out of because it’s too high.

“Sat-” The name catches in your throat, and when you blink again the eyes are gone. Rushing out of bed, you rip open the front door and look up and down the hallway. But there’s no one there, no bright white arctic fox fur to be seen, and certainly not the man attached to it.

Gripping the door tightly in your fingers, you linger in the threshold. The longer you stayed out, the more the vivid eyes watching you sleep became a memory, something your overworked mind must have conjured up as it went from sleeping to being awake. With a shaky sigh, you step back into your apartment to get ready for your next shift.

Meandering through the busy streets, you passed by shops that were starting to become familiar to you. There was the odd convenience store, a few illegal gambling dens with restaurant fronts, strip clubs and sex shops.

With time to kill before your shift, you dashed into a convenience store, it’s stark fluorescent lighting a nice switch from the everchanging neon signs outside. Scrounging up what little pocket change you had, you bought the cheapest food possible and sat down at the tiny table near the windows.

Eating slowly, trying to savor not only every bite but every minute before going back to work, a flash of white caught your eye as the convenience store door was opened. The little jingle that played was the only indication someone had actually entered, you barely saw the door open or close.

You could only see a glimpse of the pure white, not even a full on look. Glancing over your shoulder, you didn’t see anyone standing in the aisles, no ears stuck out to give you an indication as to who had come in.

But there was the feeling of being watched that had you on edge. When you turned fully away from the window to look at the store behind you, there wasn’t anyone watching you, yet the feeling still stuck. The target on your back had just been shot dead center, a sharp pang of fear gripped your heart the longer you looked at the seemingly empty aisles.

“Long way from home, little kitten.” A familiar face emerged from your right, but it wasn’t the man you thought it was.

“N-nanami?” It was a shock to see him in a neighborhood like this, his pristine suit more fitted for the financial district a few train stops over that he sometimes visited for work. He was in his usual suit, the one he liked to wear when he was over at your house, and his blond ears and tail were as immaculately trimmed and proper as ever.

“Hm, you’re not calling me Kento-nii anymore?” He said scornfully, sliding into the seat next to you and leaning his elbows on the table.

“Sorry, Kento-nii.” Bowing your head, you turned back to the table as well. Clenching your quivering hands in your lap, your claws dug into your skin to try and ground yourself. Kento hadn’t even said much and yet you were ready to pass out.

“Why’d you run away? You know we all miss you.” Leaning his head in his hands, Kento stared out the window at the people walking by. His lip curled a little in disgust, and a low growl rumbled from the back of his throat. “This isn’t the place for a girl like you.”

“You know why I had to leave.” Staring down at your hands, your eyes burned as you blinked away tears at the memories forcing their way back to you.

“I don’t. Enlighten me.”

“Kento-nii, please-” Your voice trembled, catching in your throat as it broke.

“Tell me, (Y/N). Why did you leave?”

“S-su-” It made you want to throw up just saying his name, so you didn’t. “He killed our parents.” Saying it out loud made the painful burn behind your eyes grow stronger until you were blinking hot tears down your cheeks.

“That’s not true.” Kento said calmly while turning to you. “Your parents died from-”

“Don’t lie for him!” You shouted, finally looking up at Kento. As soon as your voice raised, he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, forcing your head against his chest and pulling you into a tight hug. Dipping his head down, Kento’s chin brushed your ears as he pressed his lips to them.

“Listen little kitten, you know better than to raise your voice at me. And you know better than to lie.” The fingers around your neck tightened and Kento dug the tips of his claws against your pulse. “Your parents died in a murder-suicide, nothing more nothing less.”

“Let go!” You sobbed, thrashing around in his hold. It was truly useless to try and fight against him. Foxes - and truly, a lot of other hybrid types - were much larger and stronger than you. There wasn’t any chance you had at trying to beat him in strength, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t try.

“Calm down, you’re making a scene.” Fully enclosing his hand around your neck, Kento squeezed the air from your throat and shut down the subsequent scream that followed. Reduced to whimpering, you stilled your body and tried to tug his hand off.

Gasping and choking when he finally let you go, your body was weak from the lack of oxygen and you fully slumped into Kento’s hold. Struggling to catch your breath, there was little solace you could find in his hand stroking between your shoulder blades.

“Come home, (Y/N).” He said gently, like he was coaxing a child into eating their unwanted vegetables.

“No.” Shaking your head weakly, your body trembled violently. Kento didn’t need to speak for you to know he wasn’t pleased with your answer, the pregnant pause that followed was enough.

“Why must you be so difficult, hm?” With a heavy, disappointed sigh, Kento let you sit upright again. Tsking at your bloodshot eyes dripping with tears, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped your face clean.

Your lower lip shook as you looked up at him, honey colored eyes to match his blonde hair. Vertical pupils stared back at yours, the only thing the two of you really had in common.

“I’ll ask one more time: will you come home with me, (Y/N)?” Cupping your cheek, Kento wiped the snot dripping from your nose and the drool that had started to drip past your lip. “If you say no one more time, I can’t promise anything.”

“Kento-nii…” Sniffling pathetically, you blinked hard and shook your head.

“(Y/N).” Groaning in annoyance, Kento dropped his hands and put his head back. “I don’t think you’re listening-”

“Y-you listen to me!” Standing up abruptly, your chair fell over from the force and loudly clattered to the ground. “I’m never going back there! Not ever!” It was dangerous to shout at Kento, especially as you saw his pupils begin to dilate. Out of all your brothers friends, he was the one who took the rules most seriously.

Grabbing the food you had left, you ran out of the convenience store. As your feet slammed against the pavement, you didn’t dare look over your shoulder to see if he was chasing after you. Kento hadn’t been the type to play those sort of chase games back at home, but the desperation to have you back in that house was strong enough that he just might follow you.

Running all the way to the clubs back entrance, you slipped inside and hid in the storage room. No one truly bothered to come back there anyway, it was the perfect place to hide behind a few untouched boxes until it was time for your shift.

“Hey house cat, someone personally requested you.” Your boss grunted when she saw you, a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips.

“Who is it?” Attempting to look at the clipboard in her hands, you didn’t quite catch the name of the person that was written down.

“Who cares, it’s some rich fox wearing glasses. He’s at the back, you can’t miss his white hair.”

“What?” Your eyes shot open, heart stopping as her words bounced around your skull. It was too much of a coincidence that Kento had found you and now a white haired fox had requested you.

“Hey.” Grabbing you by the shoulder, your boss glared at you and turned your body around. “Get to work already and stop zoning the fuck out. You don’t want to make me put you on flyer duty do you? There’s some weirdos out tonight that would just love-”

“No! No, I’m sorry ma’am. I’ll get going right away.” Stepping away from her tight hold, you tried not to tremble as you walked to the back table. As you got closer, your knees nearly gave out on you as the fear you had was materializing right before your eyes.

It was indeed Gojo Satoru, your brother's best friend and the deadliest arctic fox you’ve ever come to know. With his pristine snow white hair and ears, keen blue eyes and those trademark dark sunglasses he wears, there was no mistaking him.

“Hey, little sister.” He crooned as you slid into the booth next to him, keeping a healthy distance between the two of you. “Missed ya.”

“Toru-nii, why are you here?” Keeping your eyes locked on the melting ice in his cup, you could barely breathe from the weight of your fear. There wasn’t anything that Satoru couldn’t - or wouldn’t - do. He’d always been the smartest, the strongest, he could beat any hybrid in anything he set his mind to, even with clear biological differences set between them.

“What do you mean why am I here? I’m here to see my favorite little kitten at her new job!” Throwing his arms open wide, Satoru had an easy smile on his face despite your obvious discomfort. “Although, I can’t say you’re doing very well so far. My glass is still empty.”

Wordlessly, you stiffly poured him a drink and slid the glass over to him. Pouring one for yourself as well, you clinked your glasses together when he raised it and took a short sip. Usually you didn’t drink on the job, getting the bartenders to mix you something that was mostly pure juice. But tonight you needed to take a bit of edge off.

“Please just go.” Forcing the words out of your tight throat, a wave of nausea washed over you as Satoru put his hand on your shoulder.

“I can’t leave here without you.” His lips brushed your ears like they used to back at home, but this time he wasn’t whispering crude little jokes to get you to giggle. Sliding his hand from your shoulder to around your ribs, Satoru quickly overwhelmed your personal space with the size of his body.

“Toru!” You gasped as his claws dug into your ribs, threatening to push through the spaces and break them entirely. Tugging on his hand, you looked around to see if anyone else was paying attention to your lonely little table in the back.

“Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Kento already tried to be nice and you were just so mean to him.”

“T-toru-nii, please!” Desperate tears sprang to your eyes as every word he spoke was punctuated with a tightening grip around you.

“And here I thought we trained you to be a good girl, (Y/N), I really did. But good girls don’t yell at their big brothers, they don’t lie and-” Satoru broke off to send a charming smile to a few passing hostesses before returning to you, “They certainly don’t run away.”

A choked sob racked through you, drowned out by the loud music being played overhead. In your struggle to get his hand off, you hadn’t realized Satoru slid you onto his lap until it was too late and he could wrap both long arms around you.

Forced to lean back against his lanky body, his fluffy white tail wrapped around yours, deftly hugging it close to him. Engulfing your scantily clad body, Satoru burrowed his nose between your ears, inhaling the scent he always said he liked back home.

“I’ve always wanted to see you wear something like this, ya know.” Thumbing the edge of your crop top, Satoru dipped his fingers underneath the fabric. “Always wanted to dress you up and play pretend, be my cute little hostess for the night.”

“Stop.” Grabbing his wrist, your eyes desperately searched for someone to come save you. But being seated at a table so far in the back of the club was playing to Satoru’s advantage; no one really paid attention to the back of the club because that’s where the truly shady things happened.

“C’mon kitty, play with me.” Satoru whined, bouncing you on his lap a few times. He was always childish, always whining for you to pay attention to him whenever he got the chance, and now was no different. You couldn’t see it, but you knew he had that trademark silly smile on his face regardless of the fact he had a death grip on your body.

“Toru-nii.” Jutting your lip out in a pout, you finally lurched your upper body forward enough to look at him over your shoulder.

“There’s that cutesy little face I missed.” Cooing at you, Satoru loosened his grip enough to let you sit sideways across his lap. Forcing you to wrap an arm around his middle, Satoru kept a tight grip on your back.

“Toru-nii…” Fiddling with the fabric of his shirt, you stole a glance at the eyes staring right through you. “Why do you- why are you helping him so much? You know what he did, I don’t-”

“I helped him do it.”

“What?” Your jaw fell slack and you stared right at him.

“Look, there’s no point in lying to you.” Leaning forward, Satoru grabbed his drink and took a generous swig. “I helped your brother kill your parents and stage it. We even practiced on a few drifters before moving onto the real deal.” Satoru’s smile had fallen, an unfamiliar serious look taking its place.

“You have no idea how long we all planned it, all three of us. Kento took care of your trust fund and the insurance, I subdued your parents and got them in position, and Suguru was the one who pulled the trigger.”

Tears were streaming down your face, smearing the makeup you’d put on, dripping into your open mouth. All other noise in the club fell away, leaving your ears ringing loudly from the silence in your head. Air was barely coming in or out of your lungs, your throat too tight to properly breathe.

“We had it all planned out perfectly, but then you just had to go and mess it up.” Satoru landed a swift slap to your thigh. “You just had to be a bad kitty and run off.” A second slap knocked the air back into you and your body jerked back.

“Toru-nii, why?!” Your scream was loud enough to be heard over the music, and Satoru looked around at the few curious eyes that were now looking at you, his ears flattening against his head as he forced a smile.

“We had to do it (Y/N), so we could all live together as a pack.”

“B-but we already had one.” Sure, you didn’t necessarily need to live in a group but it was nice to be in your adoptive family's pack and be surrounded by their love and care.

“That one...wasn’t the right fit.”

“For who?” Sniffling loudly, you wiped the snot from your nose. “Who wasn’t it right for?” It had been perfectly fine for you. There wasn’t any fighting, no strained dynamics and when your parents were alive, there wasn’t an overbearing older brother trying to completely consume you.

“You’ll do much better in the pack we have now, (Y/N).” Gripping your upper thigh tightly, Satoru leaned forward to press his lips against your ears once more. “Your big brothers will take great care of you.” A sound got caught in your throat, something halfway between a gasp and a scream.

“T-toru-Toru-nii.” A fresh wave of tears pricked your eyes and you blinked hard to keep them at bay. “Can I use the restroom? I just- I really need to use it.” Satoru stilled for a moment, sizing up your words and his options.

“Alright, but be quick.” Slowly releasing the tight hold he had on you, you could finally breathe again. Sliding out of the booth, you bolted to the employee bathroom and collapsed against the far wall.

There wasn’t a way out of the club without Satoru seeing. Even if you ran out the backdoor, he would still see you coming out of the bathroom. The front door was no use, there were too many people you would have to maneuver around.

“And then I said- what the hell, house cat? Are you drugged out?” A few bunny girls walked in, their long floppy ears decorated with silk ribbon. They never really spoke to you, but they weren’t mean to you either.

“My client- he’s just- I-” Stammering, you couldn’t find the words to explain the situation.

“Is he being a fucking freak?” Sauntering up to you, they tugged you up from the floor to lean against the sink counter. Sighing loudly as you nodded, one of them pulled out a small baggie from her bra, a few red pills tucked safely inside. “Here, slip one in his drink and he’ll be out like a light. Then you can have security escort him out.”

“No, he’ll notice.” Satoru would notice without a doubt if you tried to slip something into his drink. He was always watching you, sometimes more than your brother was.

“Alright well I’ll mix a drink and bring it to him, tell him he gets a free drink as a first time customer.”

“You’d do that, really?” You were nearly beside yourself with a sudden rush of hope.

“Yeah, why not? It’s been a while since I’ve had to drug a client. Plus, we can’t have our newest recruit quitting on us already!” Giving you a cheeky wink, the girls sent you on your way, promising to handle it swiftly.

Returning to the table, Satoru pulled you onto his lap once more. You didn’t struggle or make a single peep as his arms wound around you again. His grip was much softer now, not threatening to bruise and crush you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the girls you talked to walk to the bar. They didn’t look at you at all, going straight to the bartender and whispering a few things in their ear. Attempting to make conversation with Satoru, you didn’t have to wait long for them to come to your table.

“Hi sir, we heard it was your first time here!” One of the girls shouted, bouncing on her heels and making her ears flop around.

“Mhmm, so we thought it would be a nice treat to give you a drink on the house!” Another girl came up, setting down a bright pink cocktail. “Go ahead and try it, I bet you’ll like it!”

“Hm, okay.” Shrugging his shoulder, Satoru grabbed the drink and took a sip, smacking his lips together at the flavor and then taking another. “This isn’t bad, thank you!”

“Of course sir, our pleasure.” Winking at the both of you, they walked away slowly, keeping their eyes on Satoru and fully turning away after seeing him down half the drink.

Satoru always did like a bit of liquor, and it would quickly be his downfall. The drink was a sweet fruity concoction to mask the bitter pill as it dissolved and Satoru’s deadly sweet tooth was hooked immediately.

You didn’t even fully wait for him to pass out before getting out of his lap. His heavy head bobbed side to side, his words slurred not like you’d heard before and his arms had fallen slack off of you. Only his droopy eyes could seem to follow you, silently demanding you to stay in place.

Throwing on your outside clothes in the back room, you kept your hood tightly drawn as you ran from the club. You weren’t worried about pissing your boss off and having to deal with the repercussions, you wouldn’t be returning to that place ever again.

Bursting through your front door, you grabbed whatever clothes you could and shoved them into your bag. The small stack of bills you kept hidden in the bathroom was a welcomed weight to your growing pile, there was enough to at least buy a train ticket and a hot meal a good distance from Tokyo.

Under the cover of the moonless night, you tried to stick to the back alleys on your way to the station that would take you out of town. It paid off to live in such a seedy area, you knew all the ins and outs and where to go to avoid being seen.

Popping your head out from an alleyway, the street before you was deserted. A long string of old warehouses called the street home, their brick and mortar facades well worn from time. Dodging the streetlights as best you could, you could practically taste freedom on the tip of your tongue.

“Oh little sister.” A voice rang out into the dead street, an eerie song sung on the lips of the one man you’d never wanted to see again. Keeping as still as possible, your eyes burned from not blinking, and your lungs from not breathing.

His slow, methodical footsteps scraped across the cement ground, echoing in the silence and heightening your anxiety with every slow drag of his feet. As the sound drew closer, you pressed yourself against the doorway of a warehouse. There wasn’t any way you could outrun your brother, so you had to devise a plan to outsmart him when he got close enough.

“Little sister, I’ve been looking for you.” Suguru came to a halt right in front of you, his towering build casting a shadow over you in the already dark alcove. He was wearing what he had on the last time you saw him, a simple black tracksuit and his favorite slides. His hair had gotten a little longer, resting a few inches past his shoulder blades with the top half in a bun.

Quirking a brow, Suguru hummed low in his chest, reaching an arm out and resting a hand next to your head. His long black claws scraped against the wood of the door, his hand easily large enough to encompass your whole face and then some. The natural musky scent of his body was sickeningly familiar, like you’d only gone just a few hours without smelling it.

“Tell me, did you have fun playing hide and seek with your big brother?” Flashing two rows of gleaming white and perfectly straight canine teeth, Suguru leaned over you, the expanse of his chest blocking out any wiggle room. “I hope you did, because I’m done playing now.”

“Y-you’re not my- my big brother anymore.” Screwing your eyes closed, you twisted your head away from him as much as you could.

“Don’t say such things, (Y/N), you’ll hurt my feelings.” Suguru laughed dryly, clearly unamused.

“Getou li- ahh!” In a flash Suguru had his other hand around your neck, lifting you up to dangle on your tiptoes as he choked you.

“Don’t you ever call me that again, do you fucking understand?” Staring at you with unblinking eyes, Suguru squeezed hard. When your eyes started to roll to the back of your head he let go, stepping back slightly to let you fall to the ground.

Struggling to regain your breath, you tried to crawl away through the small gap left between the wall and him. You barely got one full step before Suguru grabbed you by the back of your hoodie, forcing you to stand and practically dangling you in the air like a doll.

“What’s this?” Seeing the sliver of skin underneath the hoodie, Suguru wrenched it off of you. Your sweats came off shortly after and you were exposed to the elements and his growing glare. “Care to explain why you’re half fucking naked?”

“G-” You started but quickly pressed your lips closed at the sharp look he sent you. “Suguru, just let me go.”

“Answer my fucking question.” His tone left no room for further argument, and you slowly drew your arms over your exposed midriff.

“I started working at a...a hostess bar.” Your words hung in the air, the weight of them heavy and clinging to every part of you. Suguru’s face made no change, the only thing that tipped you off to his anger was the intense flaring of his nostrils.

“My precious little sister has been working at a hostess bar for the past two months? You’ve been dressed like this every night, getting stared at and perved on by god knows what kind of men? You ran away for this?” Suguru’s voice was far too steady for the situation, spiking the already high adrenaline in your blood.

“Suguru please-”

“And it seems you’ve forgotten the number one rule. You know what you’re supposed to call me.” Backing you up onto the door again, Suguru’s fluffy black tail flicked out behind him, it’s long drawn out shadow swaying back and forth.

“You’re not my brother.” Licking your lips nervously, your eyes followed his tail. There was no way you could look him in the eye after saying that. Suguru began to laugh, a cold and hollow sound from the base of his throat that sent a chill down your spine.

“And why exactly is that?” Slamming both hands down on either side of your head, he leaned down to make eye contact with you, his pupils blown wide against his already pitch black irises.

“You know.” Forcing the words out of your mouth, you curled into yourself as much as you could.

“No, I don’t.” Speaking slowly, Suguru waited just a few seconds before slamming his hands down again. “Tell me little kitten, right now!” You let out a piercing scream, covering your face with your hands.

“You killed our parents! You killed them and I heard you fucking do it!” Coming face to face with your adopted brother, the man that killed your parents in cold blood, and having to talk to him about it were all making your head spin.

“No, no I didn’t do that, honey. You’ve got it all wrong.” Suguru’s voice dropped low, instantly adopting a soothing tone. His fingers toyed with the edges of your ears, brushing the soft fur gently. “Mommy and daddy...they had problems. And I know it must be hard to believe, but they did it to themselves.”

“You’re such a liar!” Smacking his hand away from your ears, you glared at him, frustrated tears stewing on your lash line. “I heard you shoot them Suguru! I heard mom-” Your voice cracked, and the tears began to stream down your face. “I heard her tell you not to do it.”

Falling silent, Sugurus face remained neutral. His hand remained in the air from when you smacked it away, and the only indication he was still alive was the subtle flicker of his eyelids and the way his chest barely moved as he breathed.

“I knew I should have drugged you more.” He finally broke the silence, putting his hand back on the door to keep you trapped. Everything Suguru did felt like you were watching it in slow motion. The way he drew in a deep breath, expanded his chest and arms out wide and then drew you into a tight, bone crushing embrace all felt like it happened too slow. Like you should have been able to prevent it.

“Suguru!” You screamed his name from the top of your lungs, throat quickly going raw from the volume of your shouts. “Let me go! Let me go!” Writhing around, you felt the air quickly being squeezed out of you.

“It doesn’t matter now though. It’s all in the past!” Laughing to himself, Suguru took a few steps back, going to the middle of the deserted street and under a light post. “That’s right! The past! No need to worry about it, what’s done is done!”

“Su-Sugu-nii! Sugu-nii please!” You finally broke. You finally called him what he had trained you to call him for all those years. Your precious big brother.

“Oh how I missed hearing you call me that!” Still laughing, Suguru let out a loud hum. “I think I should record you saying that so I can play it over and over whenever I need my fix.”

“Sugu-nii, please!” The tears of frustration were now turning to tears of fear and desperation. The squeezing had stopped, you could just barely suck in air, but your feet still dangled off the ground. “Please let me go- this isn’t okay!”

“What does a dumb little kitten know about what is and isn’t okay?”

“Sugu!”

“You’re just a stupid little baby who got scared without her mommy and daddy and ran away. Well don’t worry, my darling sister, Sugu-nii is here to take care of you.” Nuzzling his nose against your ears affectionately, Suguru sighed contently. “We’ll be a family again, just like before. You’ll be with the pack just like you’re supposed to.”

“I’m not- not even a fox, Sugu!” Your chances of leaving his hold anytime soon were quickly diminishing, there wasn’t much you could say - if anything - to convince him to stop. “I don’t need to live in a pack, I don’t- I’m not a canine at all!”

“Hm, like that matters. Foxes act more like cats anyway.” Shrugging his shoulders, Suguru put his hand on the back of your head, raking his nails softly against your scalp. He was holding you now like a baby doll, the arm that had previously been crushing you against him now coming to rest under your bottom and cradle you.

Something caught your eye, making you twist away from Suguru in hopes that it was someone that had heard the screams and was coming to save you. Your heart deflated just as quickly as it swelled when it was Kento who had appeared, a metal briefcase in his hands.

“Look, Kento-nii is here. Go to him.” Putting you on your feet, Suguru nudged you forward. Your knees locked, refusing to move toward the imposing figure.

“It wasn’t nice to drug Gojo like that, little kitten. He’s passed out in the back of the car as we speak, you’ll have to apologize to him when he wakes up.” Kento closed the distance between the two of you, eyes glowering and brows tightly knit together.

“How did you-”

“You think just because you run away we can’t track your scent? How do you think we found you at the club after you so rudely left our conversation? Just a few sniffs and it was like you walked us right there.” Flicking the briefcase open, Kento’s face was obscured as he began to dig around for the contents. “I was waiting by the backdoor of that shitty little club, I had a feeling Gojo wouldn’t be able to convince you to come back and you’d make a run for it again, and you did. It was far too easy to call up Getou and let him know.”

The words Kento was saying were barely sticking inside your head, your complete focus going to the loaded syringe he had pulled out from the briefcase and was now holding in his hands, an almost bored expression on his face.

Taking a step back as he took one forward, you bumped into Suguru’s chest. He made a tsking noise, quickly sliding an arm under your chin and another around your middle to keep you from moving.

“Stop! Stop, Sugu-nii please!” The tears that dripped down your face didn’t matter anymore. Your voice going hoarse from all the screaming didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. At least, nothing you wanted mattered.

“Just try to be calm, little sis. Kento will be quick.” Suguru chuckled darkly, resting his chin atop your head. Any further words you had dissolved into frantic screams as Kento grabbed your arm and wrenched it away from your body.

Pushing the needle into you, he injected you with a serene face. Like he had practiced this before, almost as if he was a doctor giving you a flu shot. Whatever was in the syringe was gone quickly, Kento unloading the whole vial into you before calmly placing it back in the briefcase and shutting it.

“Don’t cry baby.” Suguru cooed, pressing a flurry of kisses on your head as he loosened his hold and began to wipe the tears off your face.

“Sugu- Kento-” You were losing track of the world and fast. Things blurred together, the crisp edges of Kento’s body were melting into the brick walls behind him. Your limbs were giving out on you and Suguru was quick to pick you up and cradle you like he had done before.

“Sshh, just go to sleep.” Pressing his lips against your ear, Suguru whispered softly, giggling at the way you closed your heavy eyes and relaxed into his embrace. “We’ll be home before you know it. One big happy family.”

[peakyblindersxx]

ice blue - tommy shelby x reader

a/n: hi lovelies! i literally just finished typing this and i’ve gotten so many notes on my preview of it that i literally couldn’t wait to give this to you guys. i really really hope you like it :) lmk if there’s anything in specific you guys want me to write, otherwise the next thing i’m working on is gonna be with john (i’ve already started it and this one is fucking hOt a bitch is sweating). as always message me literally about anything or if you want me to start a taglist

love, abi xxx

prompt: you’re back home in Birmingham and you need a job. Tommy Shelby offers you one.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, light choking, power kink oops

You stepped out of the car, cold air coming up to brush against your ankles as you shivered in the brisk English evening, wrapping your black wool coat tightly around you. You were once again new to Birmingham, having grown up there, but at the age of 9, you were sent to a boarding school in London after your parents were killed in a house fire. You had gone on to college, but had to drop out because you simply couldn’t make ends meet. Now, at the age of 21, you were back home, looking for a job, and as soon as you arrived, the first person to call was your best schoolmate, Ada Shelby. Ada was spunky, fearless, and didn’t take no for an answer, which was one of the reasons the two of you got on so well. She had insisted on taking you out to her family’s bar, despite your pleas that you were exhausted. Fuck it, you had thought to yourself. If you were going to go out, you were going to look good doing it. So, you slipped on your best set of red silk lingerie and your shortest black lace dress which dipped low to accentuate your breasts and applied a dark red lipstick as well as eyeliner. Underneath, you slid on a pair of sheer black tights and slipped on black kitten heels. You slipped on a pair of dangly silver earrings, admiring yourself in the mirror before you had slid your silver cigarette case and lighter into a black clutch, shrugged on your coat, and made your way out the door.

There, Ada had been waiting in the back of a Model T, looking gorgeous in a dark purple silk dress. She had greeted you with open arms and a huge smile, chattering on about how beautiful you looked and how much she had missed you. The two of you had managed to stay in contact throughout the years, writing letters about the current events, so you knew all about her baby, and pressed her with many questions about how she was doing. Now, here you were, in front of a bar, the muffled drunken shouts and laughter seeping through the brick walls.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Ada grinned at you, nudging you with her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go in, and don’t worry about paying. This is my family’s bar,” she said, leading you towards the wooden doors.

“Fuck, Ada, your family owns this whole thing?” You marveled at the exterior of the building as Ada practically dragged you towards the double doors.

“Yeah, it’s all that and everything,” Ada waved her hand dismissively as she reached for the door handle. “Let’s get to the damn bar already, I need a fucking drink.” She pulled the doors open and the noise washed over you, the smell of alcohol permeating the air. The bar was dimly lit, with leather upholstery and plenty of drunk Englishmen. Bottles of spirits adorned an entire wall behind the bar in the rear. The noise swirled around you as Ada pushed her way through the crowd, determined to reach her destination. Finally, you reached the bar, and almost immediately a bartender appeared. You had known the Shelby’s were powerful, but Ada had never really talked about her family’s business. They must have been fucking loaded; the way people parted for Ada, you couldn’t even imagine the way they must have bowed for her brothers. You had never really interacted with them, but you assumed that was going to change. All you really knew about them was from the rumors, which were gruesome and plentiful.

“Give me two whiskeys,” Ada said to the bartender, who slid the glasses her way. “Thanks, Harry,” Ada yelled, handing you a glass and pulling you towards the rear of the bar, opening a door and ushering you in. As soon as you entered the room, the entire atmosphere shifted. This room was much quieter; you could even hear jazz music over the chatter. Smoke clouded the air, and you downed your drink to quiet your nerves, as you had realized that these were some of the most powerful people in the city that surrounded you. A maid appeared to take you and Ada’s jackets, and as you slipped off your coat, a wave of insecurity hit you. Ada was making small talk with an unfamiliar woman next to you, and you tapped her shoulder, telling her you were heading to the bar as she nodded, shouting after you, “When you come back, get me another whiskey!”

You laughed, turning and making your way to the bar, sliding into a stool upholstered with crushed red velvet. You motioned the bartender over, and as you waited, you took out a cigarette and lit it. The bartender set your whiskey in front of you, and as soon as you had picked it up, Ada had you by the arm and was tugging you to a booth, your whiskey and cigarette still in hand, your clutch tucked under your arm. In the booth sat three men, each of varying ages and all adorned in formal wear and newsboy caps, complete with glistening pocket-watch chains.

“Shove over,” Ada said, pulling you into the booth next to one of the brothers. “Y/N, these are my daft brain brothers, Arthur, Tommy, and John.” The oldest, sporting various scars across his face did little but grunt and touch his hat, getting up to exit the booth, and the youngest had already started bickering across the table with Ada, something about who was the biggest idiot. The middle brother, however, was fucking gorgeous. You already knew you were screwed. He had long doe eyelashes, framing ice blue eyes, and his jawline was neatly defined. His cologne alone was doing things to you. Get it together, you thought to yourself, downing the whiskey in your glass. The motion caught his attention and you felt his gaze on you, piercing your soul and sending goosebumps down your spine. He put his cigarette to his mouth and took a drag, and you couldn’t help but draw your eyes to the way his lips parted.

“You like Irish whiskey?” His smooth voice shook you to the core. You looked at him in shock for a second before quickly collecting yourself.

“I’ve always drank it, my whole family does,” you responded, your gaze lifting to meet his. He leaned back, eyes drinking you in. You chewed your lip, pressing your thighs together in an effort to quench the ache that had begun to form.

“Tommy!” A voice rang from across the room. The brother, who you assumed now was named Tommy, stood. “Excuse me for a minute,” Tommy said, stepping aside to converse with a woman you recognized as Ada’s aunt. The woman seemed angry, but then, from what you remembered, she always had. After a few minutes, she left and Tommy slid back into the booth, exhaling and shooting his whiskey. Ada and the youngest brother, who you had learned was John had both moseyed off, so it was just you and Tommy in the booth, in the corner of the room. Tommy took a drag of his cigarette and sighed.

“Ada told me you need a job,” he said, eyes lingering on you.

“I do,” you admitted, “but I don’t want you to feel obliged or anything. I can manage-”

“I need a new assistant,” Tommy cut you off, but you honestly didn’t mind. Something about the way he did it managed not to rub you the wrong way. “It’s mostly paperwork, but I’d pay you well. 40 shillings a week.” Tommy took the last drag of his cigarette, putting it out while still holding you in his gaze.

“I can do that,” you managed to blurt out. God knows what you were getting yourself into, getting hired by a man that not only had a notorious reputation but was making you trip over your own words. Something about the way he looked at you, though, made you say yes. You already couldn’t resist him. God damn it, you thought to yourself.

Across from you, Tommy pulled his jacket on. “Monday, 8 am. My office.” He slipped a piece of paper to you with an address scrawled on it, standing and leaving. As quickly as you had become intoxicated by him, he had left. The whole night, throughout all of Ada’s chatter, on the way home, in the bath, in bed, he never left the back of your mind. You wanted to be his, as much as you tried to fight the thought for not only your sake but Ada’s. You knew it was impossible, that he would want you like this, so you reserved yourself to daydreaming. His hands on your hips, his mouth on yours: you craved it, unsatisfied by your own touch even after multiple rounds. You couldn’t escape him.

***

You awoke nervous, stomach doing cartwheels. You hadn’t seen Tommy since Saturday at the bar when you had met, and the anticipation of seeing him and having to hold yourself together and not beg him to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture was almost overwhelming. You decided on a simple black blouse and a tight black skirt with black tights and heels. You pulled your fitted wool coat over your shoulders and stepped out into the cool British morning, horses clopping past as your heels clacked over the bricks, making your way past children playing and yelling. The wind whipped past your cheeks, staining them a rosy pink as you pulled open the heavy wooden door of the office building. The warm air surrounded you, and above the conversations between the workers seated and standing around desks, you could faintly hear Ada arguing with someone in a back room somewhere. The office consisted of wood furniture and a couple of separated rooms, you assumed, for Ada’s brothers, the heads of the company. The fireplace in the corner provided a much needed reprieve from the wind outside, and you slipped your coat off, hanging it on the coat rack. One of the doors read “The office of Thomas Shelby” in gold lettering, and you knocked lightly, not wanting to appear late on your first day.

“Come in,” Tommy’s voice echoed from inside the room and you opened the door, closing it slowly behind you. Tommy was seated at a dark leather chair behind a desk, taking a drag from a cigarette whilst reading from a newspaper spread out in front of him. He looked up at you, clad in a dark grey vest which hugged his chest deliciously with a white collared dress shirt and black tie underneath. Gold chains sat firmly on his biceps, ice blue eyes boring through your clothes and making your cheeks flush. He sat like a king on his throne, and it was tantalizing.

“Good morning, Mr. Shelby,” you spoke quietly but firmly, eyes trailing up to meet his. He cracked a small smirk when your gaze met his, and it felt like he could see right through your shirt and your black lace bra. It must be your imagination, you thought, that he could be undressing you with his eyes like that. Surely you were delusional.

“You decided to take me up on my offer, I see,” Tommy said, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest in a way that made you want to test his self control. “You know how to type, I assume?” His eyes flickered over your figure, lingering on the curve of your hips, making you feel like this wasn’t a regular business transaction. What you wouldn’t give to be one of the whores he visits in the middle of the night… You quickly gathered yourself together and responded.

“Yes,” you spoke. “I’ve worked as a secretary before.” Tommy nodded, standing and making his way around the front of his desk to lean on it, narrowing the space between the two of you significantly. “I’m not your normal businessman, you see,” he said, leaning back against the desk. “I keep odd hours, so if I asked you to stay late, would that be a problem?”

“No sir,” you replied, unable to rip your eyes off of the curve of Tommy’s lips and how they looked puffing at a cigarette.

“Good girl.” Your mouth dropped open slightly at his shameless assertiveness, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You couldn’t believe his forwardness, you thought, but you weren’t going to lie, it was fucking hot. Tommy grinned at you, turning his back to grab a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the barcart in the corner of the room. He made his way back to his seat and placed the whiskey as well as the glasses on his desk, filling each and gesturing for you to sit with his hand. You sunk into the chair, legs crossed tightly in an attempt to relieve your throbbing core. You were absolutely fucked, you thought. Tommy opened a drawer, rifling through some papers before producing a contract typed in black ink.

“Cheers,” he offered you a glass of whiskey in one hand and a pen in the other. You accepted both, quickly rifling through the contract and scribbling your signature on the last page. Once you signed, your eyes flickered up to meet Tommy’s and he grinned, boyishly handsome yet devious.

“To new beginnings,” he said, offering his glass to clink against yours. You downed the whiskey in one gulp as Tommy looked on, blue eyes drinking you in.

“Nervous, darling?” he drawled, puffing at his cigarette. You suddenly felt a rush of confidence you hadn’t before. You could play this game too, and if you were, you were going to do it well.

“No,” you shook your head, a shy smile playing at your lips. “Just want to get to the point, is all.”

Tommy chuckled. “A woman after my own heart, aye?” With every glance he gave you, you became more emboldened. Yet, the man was still your boss, and you were in no place to proposition him, so you had to play coy.

“If that’s what you’d like, Mr. Shelby,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you reached for your cigarette case, taking one out and lighting it, exhaling a small cloud of smoke. Tommy refilled his glass, taking a swig as he stood and made his way to a cabinet, retrieving a stack of papers. He made his way back to his seat, placing the pile in front of you.

“I need these transaction records typed up by Friday, end of the day. Can you do that?”

You nodded, pink-stained lips puffing at the butt of your cigarette. “Is that all, Mr. Shelby?”

Tommy’s eyes flickered towards your mouth, and he took another drink. “For now, yes. I’ll have John show you to your desk, yeah?”

“Yes, Mr. Shelby,” you responded politely, putting out your cigarette. You could feel Tommy’s eyes on you as you left the room. As soon as you closed the office door behind you, you almost let out a sigh of relief. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been pressing your legs together, and they almost felt shaky. You didn’t know how you were going to get through another day of this, let alone the rest of the week. Fuck me, you thought to yourself.

***

The rest of the weekdays flew by, as you kept yourself busy with not only the work Tommy had given you but also managing his appointments and relaying his messages to his two brothers and other various family members. You got on with everyone in the office relatively well, most likely at Ada’s enforcement. She could be very assertive, but that was normal, considering she was the only girl with 4 brothers.

Your contact with Tommy, though often, was all business. He would spend hours at his desk, frowning down at various papers and logs with his whiskey and a cigarette, long after the others had gone home. He would always send you home though, telling you to get some rest. Though he was assertive, you found him to be surprisingly sweet. He didn’t hold doors for you or anything like that, but you didn’t expect that; you knew your place in the company. However, he never kept you late if you looked exhausted and would do small things, like let Ada interrupt your work with whatever news or gossip she had, and never said a thing, just smiled. However, Ada’s chatter had gotten the better of you and it was already Friday.

Around 8pm, after most of the office had left for the day, you finally typed up the last transaction log, sighing with relief and slumping back in your chair for a brief moment before straightening up and smoothing out your plum-colored pencil skirt and white blouse. You flipped open your contact mirror, making sure your pinned-up hair looked acceptable before putting out your cigarette, gathering the pile of papers and log, and knocked on Tommy’s door.

“Come in, Y/N,” Tommy’s voice came through the door and you shivered, already nervous not only to be alone with him but also about the quality of your work. You pulled the door open, closing it behind you and walking up to Tommy’s desk, where he sat in a light grey three-piece suit reading through a folder. A pair of gold spectacles sat neatly on his face, and a cigarette hung loosely from his lips, making your mind wander.

“I have the papers you wanted typed up in the log, Mr. Shelby,” you spoke, clutching the book so tightly in your hand that you had to tell yourself to loosen your grip. “Is there somewhere you’d like me to put them?”

Tommy gestured with his right hand towards the desk, his eyes still trained on the files. “Set them on the desk, and stay.” You complied, standing in front of his desk, and Tommy closed the folder, placing it into a drawer and locking it, taking off his glasses and setting them down on his oak desk. He reached for the work you had completed, flipping through it and letting out a small grunt of approval. “Very good.”

A blush crept across your cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Shelby,” you responded, trying to focus your mind on something other than the way he would look on top of you.

Tommy set the work aside, eyes now firmly trained on you. “Tell me something, Y/N,” he said, taking a draw from the cigarette in his mouth. “Have you ever been fucked?”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “Mr. Shelby, I-”

Tommy chuckled, shooting his whiskey and refilling his glass from the bottle on his desk, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not asking if you’re a virgin. I’m asking you if you’ve ever been fucked, properly.”

Your face was a rose pink, and it wasn’t just from the embarrassment. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Shelby-”

“I think you do.” Tommy smirked at you, ice blue eyes tracing your figure. The heat between the two of you was practically unbearable, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing.

“No, not really,” you whispered, thighs clenched together as your eyes met Tommy’s.

Tommy smiled, almost deviously. “I didn’t think so,” he said, taking another drag and putting the cigarette out as he stood, coming around his desk and leaning back against it, eyes still fixed on you. “Do you want to be?”

You almost couldn’t believe the words you were hearing. Yet, Tommy was here, in front of you, asking if you wanted to be fucked by him. “Yes.” The answer almost fell out of your mouth, and your knees felt weak. Tommy wasted no time in closing the distance between the two of you, pressing you up against the nearest wall as his lips met yours. The feeling of his body against yours was better than you had imagined, and as his hips met yours, you let out a soft moan into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Tommy growled, picking you up by your legs and placing you on his desk, sweeping all the papers off with a sweep of his arm. A glass crashed onto the ground but he didn’t care, tugging his shirt over his shoulders while you removed yours. He pulled you against him roughly as he reconnected his lips with yours, his cock pressed up against your damp underwear. He stopped kissing you to let you pull off your skirt, discarding it somewhere on the floor, leaving you in your black garters and underwear.

“Look at you,” Tommy groaned, palming his cock through his trousers as he stared at your touseled hair and swollen lips and the way you were breathing hard. “All fucking riled up for me already, and I haven’t even gotten you naked yet, aye?”

“Mr. Shelby, please sir,” you whined, eyes widening as you realized what you had just said. Tommy’s eyes, however, darkened as he stepped inches away from you.

“Is that how you want it, huh?” Tommy breathed down your neck and you shivered, his hand gently wrapping around your throat. “You want to be fucked on the boss’s desk?” He reached his other hand down to cup your cunt. You squirmed in protest, pushing yourself against his hand as he chuckled darkly.

“You going to be a good girl for me?” Tommy cajoled, pressing his palm against your clit. You moaned, nodding vigorously as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. He pulled your panties down, ripping your garters off and slipped a finger inside of you, making you cry out in response and clench around his fingers. He quickly joined that finger with another, pumping them in and out of you.

“Oh fuck,” you cried as you felt your release approaching. “Oh God, I’m gonna cum..”

“Cum for me then, pretty girl. Make a mess for me, yeah?” Tommy growled into your ear as you came all over his fingers. Tommy chuckled as you caught your breath, bringing his fingers to his mouth.

“God, you’re sweet,” he murmured, his eyes blown out with lust. Your breath hitched at his words and you kissed him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pushed your back against the desk, unbuckling his pants and pulling out his cock before running the tip of it against your wet core.

“Please..” You squirmed against him in an attempt to get him to comply.

Tommy smirked. “What is it you want, huh?” You moaned in response, hips rocking up. Tommy’s hand made his way to your neck, holding it firmly yet not hard enough to bruise. “I wanna hear you say it, sweetheart. Maybe then I’ll give it to you.”

“Sir, please,” you cried out, hips still undulating. “I want your cock inside me.”

Tommy’s eyes dilated and he pushed himself inside of you, snapping his hips against yours at an unbelievable pace. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you were seeing stars, but you wanted everything he was willing to give you. He hadn’t even claimed you, yet you were already his. Your moans echoed throughout the office as he fucked you faster, your hands gripping at the desk, then scratching at his back. He didn’t seem to care about the marks, as he buried his face in your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. You felt yourself coming close to the edge once again, and you tipped your head back, crying out as Tommy fucked you through your second, third, and fourth orgasm. He had you over the desk, up against the wall, even on the chair, and you didn’t care. You wanted it just as badly as he did. Finally, Tommy had you on your back on the couch, hand around your neck as he fucked you. Your eyes flickered up to meet his as you gasped.

“Please come in me, sir,” you gasped as Tommy grunted, setting an unrelenting pace.

“You’re mine,” he growled as he fucked into you. “Every inch. If I catch anyone here even looking at you, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill them. You belong to me now, yeah?” He panted.

“I’m all yours,” you moaned at the thought.

“Mine,” he groaned, his cock twitching before he released inside of you, cum dripping down the backs of your thighs. It felt dirty, but you didn’t care. Tommy Shelby could make a mess of you in front of the entire World’s Fair and you wouldn’t protest.

After a moment of delirious silence, Tommy stood, lighting a cigarette and offering one to you. You took it graciously as he sat next to you, leaning back into the crushed velvet.

“So,” he said, blue eyes looking into yours, “I ripped your garters.” He reached into his discarded pants’ pocket, pulling out a 10 pound note from a huge stack and offering it to you.

“So you can buy new ones,” he spoke, taking a drag from his cigarette.

You accepted it, taking a drag from your cigarette. “So, would this make me a whore now?”

Tommy chuckled. “We’re all whores, Y/N. We just sell different parts.” He took a puff from his cigarette, exhaling softly. “But now, you’re with me. You’re going to have to get used to nicer things, yeah?” His eyes traced your figure before coming back to yours, smiling softly.

“If you say so, Mr. Shelby,” you smiled shyly before putting your cigarette out in the ashtray on the table and retrieving your discarded clothing from around the room, putting it on one piece at a time. You could feel Tommy’s eyes on you as he drank from his glass, and you liked it. Before you could start to make your way to the door, Tommy quickly pressed you up against his desk in a passionate kiss.

He broke the kiss, smirking slightly. “I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

You looked up at him inquisitively. “But I haven’t even given you my number.”

Tommy grinned. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll get it,” he said, eyes drifting after your figure as you headed for the door. Before you left, you looked up into his ice blue eyes. “Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” you smiled.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tommy responded. You closed the door behind you, taking a deep breath after you left his office, already craving his touch on you again.

Tommy Shelby was going to be the goddamn death of you.

[dreamescapeswriting]

On The Run ~ MYG [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

PAIRING: Bodyguard!Yoongi x Reader

GENRE: Bodyguard!Au, fluffy, enemies to lovers, Yoongi has a soft spot for reader, Reader has a soft spot for Yoongi, 

WARNINGS: Mentions of dead bodies, blood, mafia, underworld dealings,

A/N: Yes I am simping over Tatsu from the anime “The way of The house husband” so I used his name 😭😭 I feel like this is a little fast-paced so I’m sorry x I hope you like it though my love

Running away. That was your life now. There was no staying in one place, no settling down in some small village. Just running. Don't let people know who you are and never let anyone know your name. All of the joys of being on the run. But this was better than the life you had. At least this was a life. This was better than the way you were living before and you were never going to look back on it. 

"Hey! Come back here!" A voice shrieked as you sprinted in the direction of the motel you were staying in. Panicked that they were going to catch up to you as you carried the backpack full of food with you. Run. Don't look back. Don't speak. Don't stop. Don't ever second guess a thing. Only move at night. Don't go out in the day. Just Run.

Tatsu Susaki one of the most feared men in the whole of South Korea. Everyone knew his name and face, even if they barely turned on the news or read a newspaper they knew him. Tatsu had moved from Japan to take over the South Korean underground, bored of whatever life he had back in Japan. 

The man everyone called the immortal dragon, everyone feared him even if he was just walking down the street. People would stop what they were doing to pay their respects to him with money or gifts. The scariest man in the country and the one you were in a relationship with. Though it didn't feel like a relationship to you. 

To you, it felt as though you were trapped with him rather than his girlfriend. Held hostage in his huge mansion of a home because you had fallen for a stupid pickup line not too long ago. If you had known it would have lead to this kind of life you never would have taken him up on his offer of a date.

"Where are you going?" A voice called out as you attempted to walk out of the back door. Sighing to yourself you had almost forgotten that Yoongi was in the house. Yoongi was your personal torture device. 

In other words, he was your bodyguard. 

The one you were adamant that you didn't need but Tatsu insisted upon giving to you. On the rare occasion that you were allowed out of the house, Yoongi would go with you. Everywhere. Shopping with friends, Yoongi would be there. Going to dinner with family, Yoongi would be there. Not that you were ever out with friends and family anymore.

It was as though Yoonig was attached to you at the hip. 

"To the back garden, are we going to have a problem with that?" You asked snarkily as you turned to look at him. Neither of you got along with one another. Yoongi didn't want to be there any more than you did.

He'd joined Tatsu's family with the intention of getting into the business. Not being someone's personal babysitter.

It was a Sunday which meant Tatsu was out of the house doing lord knows what and you could do whatever you wanted...Within reason. 

The man ordered you around like you were his daughter rather than his girlfriend. You didn't have a life outside of Tatsu's world anymore. He'd cut you off from everyone you had loved.

Friends no longer wanted to be around someone who would associate themselves with someone from the underworld. Your family were cut off from you because they disapproved or disrespected Tatsu in some kind of way. It was cut off or be killed and you made the decision to keep your family alive and well.

"You know you have to tell me everywhere you go," Yoongi told you as he watched you standing by the door. Hand clutching onto the handle as if it was your life support.

"Even when I have to go the bathroom? Or what about when I have to leave the house because my boyfriend is cheating on me?" 

Yoongi looked at you sadly. It was no secret that Tatsu would cheat on you almost all of the time, he could do whatever he wanted meanwhile you were barely allowed to speak to anyone outside of his social circle. If you went out to parties together you were to sit there and look pretty. 

His exact orders. He would give you an expensive dress and accessories before making you sit on a chair all night without speaking to another soul. 

"You have to tell me everything and where you at all times." Yoongi stepped into the kitchen to be near you in case you made a sprint for the exit. Not that there was a way out of the back garden. If you had somehow managed to jump the 10-foot brick wall there were dogs around the property. 

"Oh, so I'm like your little puppy. You get to take me on walks and feed me." You faked a giant smile on your face but Yoongi wasn't impressed.

"Y/n there's no need for this, we've been through this a million times before." It felt like billions to you. All you wanted to do was get out of this relationship but Tatsu had made it clear there was only one way out and that was in a wooden box in the ground. 

"I'll keep going through it until you leave me alone." You grumbled, hand dropping from the handle once you realised he was going to follow you out there. All you wanted to do was go gardening for a little while. 

"I can't. I'm paid to look after you." Rolling your eyes you stared at him,

"I'll pay you more"

"We both know you can't." He counted but you just opened the door not stepping out as you turned to Yoongi.

"I'm going to the garden." You grumbled as you walked out of the back door and down towards the greenhouse. Yoongi's eyes widened once he realised you were going toward the greenhouse. The one place he had been ordered to keep you out of. 

"Y/n! wait! The boss said not-" He couldn't finish his sentence as you pushed the door to the greenhouse open. Letting out a scream of terror as you saw the blood pooling on the ground coming from a body. 

"Is he fucking joking?!" You screamed instantly turning to hide your face in Yoongi's chest as he pulled you out of the greenhouse. His arms wrapping around you as he tried to comfort you, broken sobs leaving your mouth.

Fear crippling as you pictured the dead body lying there on the floor. The greenhouse was your one safe space, the one place you could go without it being ruined by Tatsu's world but that was now gone.  

"I was under strict rules not to let you in there." Images of the body flashed into your head over and over again as you pushed Yoongi away from you

"I want to go out." You snapped, needing to do something to get the image of the swollen body from your mind. There was nothing that would ever make you forget the stench of decay or the colour that splattered the floor. 

"You're not allowed today," Yoongi spoke as he began following you back into the house.

"Why?" It was a dumb question to which you already knew the answer.

"Because-"

"He said so." You mumbled in unison as you looked to Yoongi a part of you hoped that one-day Yoongi would feel so bad for you he'd let you go.

The only reason you hadn't run away was that Tatsu threatened everyone you loved and told you that he could find you no matter where you were. 

"He has left orders for you though,"

"Of course he has," You uttered as you walked towards the grand staircase in the foyer. 

"He has left a dress in the guest room, someone will be round to do your hair and makeup," Yoongi told you as you continued to walk up the stairs in silence. 

"I'm going to take a bath." You told him as you reached the top of the stairs, turning to face him as he looked up at you. 

"Shall I let you know when the stylists have arrived?" You hummed before walking towards your room. It wasn't as though you shared a bedroom with Tatsu, you were just there to look good for him. The two of you hardly spoke a word to one another since the first date. Unless it was him telling you off or speaking about you right in front of you.

Another night another boring party. Sitting in the booth watching as your "boyfriend" dance with other girls, kissed them and bought them drinks. The way in you had been photographed together, his hand practically cutting off your circulation when you had tried to avoid being seen by the cameras. 

"Y/n," You glanced at Yoongi who sat down in front of you. Raising an eyebrow at him you wondered why he had come over to you.

"We could play a game?"

"A game?" You questioned a little apprehensive that he was suddenly trying to be nice to you right now. 

"Sure, to stop you from being so bored." He seemed to be genuinely trying to make this a better experience for you but it wasn't going to work. 

"What do you propose we do?" You looked at him before looking around the room. It wasn't as if you were allowed to get up and dance. What did he expect you to do? Sit and count how many people your boyfriend made out with. 

"Eyespy."

"Eyespy what am I, 10?" You questioned him.

"Just, come on." You rolled your eyes before looking around you to see what Yoongi was going to pick for his first go.

"Eyespy something beginning with S." Eyes darted around the room until you saw the giant ice sculpture in the centre of the room. 

"Snake." You mumbled as you answered Yoongi, he nodded and waiting for you to go next. Moving to sit beside Yoongi you smiled, nudging into him a little. 

"Eye spy with my little eye, something beginning with C.," You said to him as you looked at Tatsu. 

It continued on until you found yourself actually having fun with Yoongi. Forgetting for a moment that you were being forced to be at the party. 

Giggling a little when you told Yoongi you had found something he was sure you'd never find you looked at him instead of where Tatsu was around the room. 

"What are you doing?" Yoongi stood up straight and stared ahead at the crowd as Tatsu spoke with you. 

"I was just having fun." You whispered as you looked at him. Swallowing the lump in your throat as you saw his eye twitch, something he did when he was mad. 

"You're not here to have fun. You're here to sit there and look good!" He snapped making you flinch as you looked up at him, you never wanted to get on the wrong side of something with Tatsu so you nodded.

"I want you to sit here, alone." He left taking Yoongi with him as he ordered him to stand with the other guards on the other side of the room. 

Hours passed by and Tatsu was still speaking with different girls on the dance floor. Letting their bodies brush against his own while you watched from the distance. 

Yoongi had been moved to the other side of the room to stop you from talking to him. His eyes still trained to you as you watched Tatsu cheat on you for the ninth time that week. It was like he wanted you to watch as he cheated on you. Yet another powerplay of his. 

Was it even a relationship when he was forcing you to be there? You were a captive. 

Tatsu's eyes shut as he began to kiss down the woman's neck. It was your chance to break away without him noticing at first glance. Too busy with another woman's lips on his. You knew the bathroom had a window large enough to crawl through and you had a way out of the parking lot of the hotel you were in. 

Standing up from the booth you began to make your way through the crowd of people. Pushing yourself past people who were grinding against one another drunkenly. Yoongi frowned when the crowds parted and he could no longer see you sitting where he had left you. 

Glancing over your shoulder you made sure Tatsu was still busy before you crashed into the bathroom there was no lock so you had to make quick work of everything. 

Kicking off the heels you were wearing before opening the window, glancing out at it. The bathroom was one floor up from the small alleyway below you. The height wasn't enough to hurt yourself and the window opened just enough for you to get through so you began pushing yourself through the gap. 

Whimpering when you hit the pavement one floor below you. Digging through the front of your dress to grab the keys you had swiped from Yoongi. 

Yoongi panicked as he saw you weren't in the room anymore, his eyes darted towards the exit. There was no way you had gone out of there since there were three guards there the whole time. 

"What's going on?" Someone asked into the speaker in his ear. 

"Yoongi left his post." Another said. 

"Accompanying Y/n to the bathroom." He hissed as he walked towards the bathroom door, knocking on it and waiting for you to shout at him for following you but you didn't. There was no sound from inside of the room. That made him freak even more. Normally you would scream some kind of verbal abuse at him for following you to the bathroom.

"Y/n?" He called out moving into the room only to find your shoes on the ground. Bending down he picked them up and looked at the window.

"Shit." He walked back out calmly making sure no one was watching him as he headed for the exit. You probably went for air. You had to have gone for air. if you were gone he'd bed dead.

Roaring to life the motorbike engine you smiled as you finally saw your way out. Yoongi's motorcycle. You mentally thanked him for playing eye spy with you earlier in the night. It was the only way you could have ever gotten the keys to his bike. 

"Y/n." Your head span to look at Yoongi who was staring at you from the alleyway.  

"Don't," He warned as you put your leg over the seat and began to rev the engine. There was no going back. You were going. No one was going to stop you. 

Taking in a deep breath you began to ride down the road, Yoongi racing after you as he watched you closely, weaving in and out of cars that were in your way. You weren't speeding just going a little over the limit when you saw a car that belonged to one of Tatsu's men coming your way.

"Fuck!" You screamed halting to a stop and racing to get down one of the small alleys without being seen but a man crossed the road making you scream. Your hand pressed frantically on the break causing you and the bike to skid into the alleyway.

Yoongi raced to you, praying that neither the driver nor passenger in Tatsu's car had seen that it was you on the bike. Did he think you weren't going to get seen? You were wearing a designer lace dress wearing one of the most expensive necklaces in the entire world. 

"Y/n." He hissed pulling you to hide in the alley as he looked at you. Your leg had a cut on your calf but it didn't look as though it was going to cause you any kind of distress. 

"Leave me alone." You begged him as you began to cry heavily, the thought of going back to Tatsu killing you inside. There wasn't anything that could make you go back into that building. You were through being the girl who was there to make him look good. 

"Leave me alone, I need to get away." You begged with him to leave you, hitting his chest as he continued holding you tightly in his arms.

"Tell him I escaped. Tell him I died. Let me go." You pleaded with him. Each plea breaking Yoongi more and more as he listened to the desperation in your voice. 

"Y/n I can't." He told you as he rocked you a little in his arms, doing his best to ignore the aching inside of him to take you away from everything. 

"Give me some time to get away." Turning to look up at him he stared at you as he saw the pain in your eyes. That was the sign he needed to get you out of there. 

"Go home. Pack light." He whispered as he stood you up, looking at your leg as he checked it out. Nothing bad that warranted a trip to a doctor. Nothing that can't be fixed by him when he gets you somewhere safe.

"What?" You sniffled as you looked at him, wondering what he was talking about. 

"For once Y/n, please just do as you're told." You nodded at him as he pressed the earpiece on his ear.

"I'm taking Y/n home, she's sick." He spoke out to the other guards, you knew that Tatsu would either stay in the hotel with the girl he was with or find somewhere so you didn't have to worry about that. Yoongi looked at you before walking with you towards his bike. Standing it up once again, giving you a helmet from the seat hatch. 

"Put this on and hold onto my waist." He whispered to you as he sat on the seat.

"Where are we going?" You panicked as you watched Yoongi shoving your clothes into a backpack that you had given to him. He'd changed into black jeans and a hoodie from his room in the house. Throwing some of his own clothes in the bag with yours. 

"Change." He ordered as he looked at you, you were still standing there in the dress. Reaching to you he unclasped the necklace and laid it out onto the dressing table. Maybe if Tatsu saw that you had nothing of his he would let you get off easy. At least that was what Yoongi was hoping would happen. 

"Bring something he wouldn't expect you to wear." He ordered again as you grabbed some ripped blue jeans, a black top with a blue jean jacket. Taking the clothes from your hands he pushed them into the bag.

"Change into something he would expect. Hurry." You could hear the panic in his voice as you rushed to the bathroom changing just as quickly as he had told you to. 

Yoongi had all of the cash he had available to him. Around ₩1250000 he'd saved up and stashed in his room away from Tatsu.

"What are you going to do?" You questioned as he began pulling you down the stairs. This was the most panicked you'd ever seen Yoongi become and you had no question to rationalise what was happening and what he had planned for you both. 

Yoongi said nothing as he began pulling you out of the front door and looking around. Guards were changing at the shifts. It gave you ten minutes to get out without being seen. 

"Get on. Hold on." He ordered as he revved the engine of his bike. You sat behind him, hands clutching around his waist as he began to ride down the road. Helmets masking who you were for a little while but he knew it wasn't going to be enough. Yoongi was already one step ahead of everything that was going in his mind. He had a plan, he had no idea if it was going to work but he was going to try.

Just as you got outside of Seoul he stopped in a random parking bay on an empty road.  

"What are we doing?!" You panicked looking at him as he began handing you clothes. The clothes he'd told you to bring that Tatsu wouldn't expect you to wear.

"Change. It's the middle of the night, no one is going to see." He mumbled as he bent down beside his boke and began to take off the plate. 

"That illegal." You sniffled not realising that you were crying until you let out a small cry. Yoongi stared at you,

"Do you want to get away or not!?" He snapped harshly at you, not wanting to be rude but needing to get on the move as quickly as you both could. You nodded changing as he switched the plates around. 

The two of you needed to get out of Seoul as quickly as humanly possible, it was only going to get you some time to be away from Tatsu. Before he and his men noticed you weren't at home.

"Yoongi?" You whispered as you watched him standing back up, he'd changed into a leather jacket and some jeans. Both of you in new clothes and new plates on the bike and yet he still hadn't told you what the plan was. 

"We're heading back into the town. We need to get seen by cameras, this way it'll look like we went towards Busan on my bike but this is a new bike, new plates. He won't think to check it yet." He explained as he got onto the bike, your arms wrapped around his waist. You were trusting someone you previously hated and gave shit to. 

"Where are we really going?" You asked him before he started the engine. It wasn't as if you could talk while it was running.

"Damyang."

"Whats in Damyang?" You questioned.

"My parents. I can get us more money, I can get supplies and from there we're on the run." Everything felt as though it was moving at 100mph.

"We?" 

"You think he won't kill me for letting you go. Yes, we." He looked at you over his shoulder to see if that was okay and you nodded.

"We." You agreed as he started the engine. Driving out back into town as you kept your head resting on his back. Praying that this was going to work somehow. That Tatsu was going to leave you alone or at least have no idea where you were.

The middle of nowhere was where you had landed together the next day. Broad daylight and Yoongi decided to stop in some dingy motel. 

"We can stay here for now." He explained as he came out of a small office holding a key to a room. 

"Motel room for the night," You laughed as you looked at it. There had to be some kind of trap to this,

"Do you think I'm stupid?! You're going to tell him where to find us." You screamed out in a panic but he yanked you into the room and shook his head. Covering your mouth with his hand so that you didn't draw unwanted attention to one another. Daylight was going to be the worst time for you both. It was easy for you to be spotted, at least if you slept through the days and moved only at night it would be easier.

"No. The bike is hidden. We have to draw the curtains." He mumbled as he began shutting everything up. Blocking the door with one of the chairs that were in the room, adding a table so that you would hear if someone tried the door handle. 

The two of you alone in a room with one bed, it was like something out o a cheesy romance novel.

"How long we will be like this?" You questioned as you sank down onto the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Forever probably...You know what he's like." He whispered as he sat down on the floor at the end of the bed with you. You looked at him. For the first time since the night before you realised how badly this was all going to affect his life and not just yours anymore.

"I'm sorry. I-I never should have made you do this-"

"Made me? Y/n I did this because I could see how much pain you were in. How badly you needed out of there...It wasn't right for him to do this." You looked at him sitting closer to him as you nodded. Seeing him in a whole new light because he showed you a simple act of kindness. 

"I promise he'll never hurt you or come near you...We can run forever." You smiled weakly before leaning forward and kissing him softly. 

"Thank you." You breathed out, leaning your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes and for the first time in ever sleeping peacefully through the day. 

Yoongi came around with the bike and looked at you as you stood out in the middle of the pathway. Middle of the night and you were just standing there, taking in the air and the scenery around you. 

"What are you doing?" He questioned watching you standing there. Arms spread as you took in deep breaths as if it was the last time you were ever going to do this but it was the opposite reason. It was the first time you were allowed to be out in the open like this. No guards, no rules, no restrictions. 

"We're free...I-I don't have to be ordered around." You whispered as you looked at him, he was smiling the most you'd ever seen him smile ever. It was one of the cutest smiles you'd ever seen, such a cute gummy bear smile. 

"I can be me...I don't have to listen to someone telling me to sit and be quiet." You breathed out tears rushing down your cheeks as you realised just how free you were now. Yoongi wiped your face with his thumb and smiled, kissing your lips softly. You smiled against his lips as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck until he pulled back from you.

"Get on." He whispered as he got onto the bike first and steadied himself.

He drove off. Your arms in the air as you let the wind rush over you both enjoying the newfound freedom that you had. 

"Drive," You laughed to Yoongi as you climbed into the backseat of the truck that Yoongi was waiting inside of. A year on the run and you were still going. Motel rooms in the day, driving in the night. With the two of you awake in the night, it was as though you were the only ones in the world. Just the two of you against the world.

"Did you get seen?" He asked a little panicked when he saw a man rushing after the car. You climbed through to the front seat and shook your head.

"No, he was asking for my number so I bolted," Yoongi smirked as he ran his hand up your thigh giving it a small squeeze.

"That's my girl." He chuckled as he began heading towards the motorway, the next stop on your list was Geoje. You were going to keep driving until you found a motel or until daytime came around. Whichever came by first.

"I told you to pay for the gas and get out," Yoongi laughed as you looked out behind you. The man was waving you back as you shook your head at Yoongi. 

"Not my fault I'm irresistible." You joked as he quickly turned to you, kissing you softly before he looked back at the road. 

"That you are." He breathed out as he continued driving. The bike had been traded for the old beat-up truck Yoongi had gotten from an elderly man in Daegu when you were there. Another way to lose any traces of you if Tatsu had any of them. The truth was neither of you knew if anyone was watching you or following you but it was fun being on the run. Just the two of you in the whole world. Moving at night so it felt like you were alone and had the world to yourselves. Your days in the motel rooms were spent playing board games, card games, watching tv or just spending one on one time with one another. The two of you had developed a growing relationship with one another. There was no one else you wanted other than Yoongi. 

"Hey," You whispered as you pulled up to a red light. He glanced at you and you took his chin into your finger and thumb. Kissing him sweetly before pulling away when the light was green. 

"Drive," You giggled looking out of the window at everything that was passing you. Everything looked so much prettier at night. You didn't know or want to know what life had in store for you, all you cared about was having Yoongi with you throughout it all. The two of you against the world. 

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​ @min-yus​ 

[exosmutfactory]

BETWEEN YOU & ME

Baekhyun drabble.

1352 words.

Angst AGAIN (smh), some fluff at the end.

A/N: Someone take my phone away from me 😭🌸 forgive me for any mistakes. This is why I don't listen to new music, this always happens 🥴✨

♬♩♪♩ ♬♩♪♩ ♬♩♪♩

Baekhyun takes a deep draw from his cigar. He rests his elbow on the car door, his cigar hanging out of the open window. He exhales the smoke into the chilly air, staring aimlessly into space.

He had just returned home from a business trip overseas. It was a big deal; the whole weight of the company rested on his shoulders. It took an agonizing three weeks to convince another company to partner up with him for an upcoming project. Day to day dealing with strangers while struggling to speak in a foreign language and rooming with his annoying colleagues in a hotel was hell, but it was so worth it. Well, until he got back home.

His jaw clenches. Baekhyun had just got back from the airport, having stayed up for the entire 15-hour flight on an adrenaline high from how successful the deal went. He told his mom, dad, and friends. He wanted to share the good news with the world. He even managed to facetime his dog on the taxi ride on the way home.

His home. That he shared with his lover.

He had grabbed a bouquet of flowers during the rush-hour traffic jam downtown and a box of chocolate from her favorite locally-owned bakery. He had straightened his tie and settled his hair before stepping into their apartment to surprise her only to be greeted by an unexpected scene.

This bitch had the nerve to have a man in his house. On his couch. In nothing but her 24-carat earrings and the 500 dollar set of lingerie that he bought for her.

Baekhyun didn't even falter for longer than a moment before turning around and walking right back out the door. Jet lag be damned, he'll get the locks changed and kick her out in the morning.

He leans back in his seat, covering his face with his hand, the heat from the lit end of his cigar tickling his skin. Tears well up in his eyes. He's given her everything she could ever ask for. His money, his time, his love. He lent her his black card on multiple occasions and let her drive around in his car.

Baekhyun kicks the dashboard of the Audi, not even phased when his phone falls to the floor in a clatter. It's broken anyway; he threw it at the brick wall as soon as he exited the apartment complex. Her obsessive calls and pleading voice mails won't be reaching him anytime soon.

He blinks back furious tears, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. He feels so manipulated; so wronged.

How could she do this to me?

He has done nothing but provide and care for her for the past three years. He helped pay off her debt. He looked after her kids when her babysitter bailed at the last minute. Hell, he was going to propose to her, but now it's pointless. It's over. He was ready to spend the rest of their lives together and this bitch went and ruined it.

Baekhyun chuckles bitterly, snubbing out his cigar in the ashtray. No. He is not doing this. He will not smoke cigars like a chimney over some two-timing, poor excuse of a woman. He has a family and career to think about, with one less distraction in the picture.

A distraction… Now he wonders if he was just her opportunity.

Feeling tears spring to his eyes again, he grunts in annoyance, grabbing his wallet before stepping out of the car and closing the door with a startling slam. He heads for the club around the block, already feeling a headache coming on from the volume of the music outside of the establishment alone. The bouncer glances at him for two seconds before stepping aside to let him through.

Baekhyun heads straight for the bar, ordering a round of shots and bourbon on the rocks. He surveys the room while swirling the drink in his glass, envious of how carefree everyone seems to be. For the first time in a long time, he is the only sorry man drinking his woes away at the bar, and he doesn't know how to feel about that.

He gulps down the alcohol until he can't tell his left hand from his right, clumsily loosening his stifling tie around his neck. Fed up, he roughly yanks on the collar of his dress shirt altogether and stands up, stumbling his way to the exit. He needs to get out of here; he can't stand it anymore.

His vision blurs. The flashing lights blind him. One misplaced step on the back of someone's shoe and he's sent tumbling to the floor.

Baekhyun slams his hands against the wall to save himself at the last second, slumping against it as an irritated voice reaches his ears.

"Hey, asshole! Watch where the fu-"

He turns his head and freezes, drinking in the sight of you. You stand in front of him with your hands on your hips, nostrils flare and eyes ablaze. Your black dress compliments the curve of your hips and your fierce eyes glaring up at him.

There's so many things Baekhyun wants to say in that moment, but all he manages to do is burst into tears like a baby. The alarmed expression on your face does nothing but fill him with shame.

***

"Here."

Baekhyun lifts his head, taking hold of the coffee mug that you slide over the table to him.

"You don't seem like the type to stumble drunkenly through crowds," you mumble thoughtfully, resting his chin in your palm with a tilt of your head. "Rough night?"

Baekhyun solemnly nods, carefully bringing the mug up to his lips. He wins as the bitter taste of coffee spreads over his tongue. Bitter. Like the last image he's seen of his ex.

"Want to talk about it?" your soothing voice snaps him out of his thoughts. You look at him in a mixture of concern and curiosity, idly swirling your melting sugar cubes in your coffee.

Baekhyun hates to admit how easily those words have another avalanche of tears streaming down his face. He wouldn't mention this to anyone. Anyone. He notices you shift out of the corner of his eye, wondering bitterly if you're going to leave. How many times today will he be left behind? How much more can his heart take-

He blinks, leaning back when you wave a packet of tissues in front of his face. You're looking around the vacant cafe, giving him some privacy while he hurries to wipe his face.

"Look, I'd feel bad as hell if I left you by yourself like this." You turn back to him after his tears stop falling so heavily. "Give me a number. Who can I call for you?"

Looking at you, Baekhyun finds the strength to smile, chuckling softly. He recites Chanyeol's number that he has memorized, watching the way you tap your nails on the edge of the table while giving his friends directions to the cafe.

"He'll be here in 30," you cross your arms on the table, sighing in exaggeration. "30 more minutes with Mr mullet mystery for me."

Baekhyun's smile grows, his mood lifting the more you talk. He's sobered up by the time Chanyeol's wheels squeal loudly in the parking lot. "Wait," he rests his hand on top of yours on impulse, feeling heat spread over his face when you glance at him in shock. "S-sorry," he mutters, clearing his throat. "How can I ever repay you?"

"Are you asking for my number, Baekhyun?" you raise a brown, amusement dancing over your features. You chuckle when he nervously rubs the back of his neck, grabbing a napkin to scribble your number on it in blue ink.

"Thank you," he murmurs, hurrying to the door with a smile even though he'd rather sit and spend time with you more.

You nod when he turns around to look at you one last time, tucking your hair behind your ear with a smile of your own. "See you around, Mr. Byun."

♬♩♪♩ ♬♩♪♩ ♬♩♪♩

A/N: This man got me out here unable to sit still 😔😪💓

[ana-benn]

The Enforcer's Gun

Warnings: Smut, mafia AU, Dom/sub, possessive alpha male, gun play, exhibitionism, alcohol consumption (I don't advise copying this part. I've done it and it's a great recipe for a hangover from hell), size kink, thigh riding, object insertion

You'd normally be thriving right now. You had your hair done, a dress that fit well and looks hot as fuck, and honestly you'd spent most of the night getting compliments from random strangers. For all intents and purposes, you were having a good night. Except the one man you wanted to notice how good you looked wasn't paying attention to you.

He was working.

While you could appreciate the fact that he had work to do, you hated how at times like this he could just ignore you. If you'd ever told him that he'd have smirked and informed you that he spoiled you. Which was true, but that knowledge did nothing as you stood at the bar and watched him talking to the owner of the nightclub you were in.

'Contract Negotiations' is what he had called it, but he wasn't exactly in the negotiations business. You flinched as Jordie grabbed the guy by the shoulder and held him fast while Jamie hit him hard in the stomach. You'd learned to find this side of him masculine and entirely too sexy, and you felt the tell-tale slick pool in your panties.

"There you are, you're too good at giving me the slip," Tyler laughed as he saddled up next to you. Normally you'd have Jessi here with you, but she'd just had a baby, so it was you and Tyler. You could've spent time with one of the other girls that'd come, but you didn't exactly like them all.

"That's because you're too busy checking out the sorority girls that just walked it," you quipped. "Why won't this bartender come take my order?" You grumbled as the bartender walked past you yet again.

"He probably saw you walk in with Chubbs," Tyler laughed, signaling the bartender.

"Don't let him hear you call him that in public," you grinned. "He may shoot you."

"Round of fireball shots," Tyler said when the bartender walked over finally. You have him a pointed look and he rolled his eyes, "And a Mai Tai for the lady."

"Plantation rum!" You called to the bartender's back. You rolled your eyes as Tyler laughed at your pout.

"Not everyone is gonna cater to you like Jamie does doll, just the facts," he winked then.

"He's not even catering to me," you grumbled, eyes drifting over to where Jamie was crouched over a bleeding man. Apparently negotiations weren't going well. Or maybe they were, you had no idea. "Why'd he bring me again?"

"You've been asking to come for months," Tyler reminded you.

"And you're baby sitting me because..." You asked.

"Apparently I only do 'pretty things' and this isn't a pretty job. So I got girlfriend duty," he smirked looking down at you.

"Why Mr. Seguin," you gasped in mock outrage. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were flirting."

"Nah, I like my balls where they are," Tyler shrugged. "You picked a jealous one." Just then the bartender lined up the shots in front of the two of you and set your Mai Tai down before scurrying away.

You rolled your eyes, as Tyler handed you a shot. You clinked them together before slamming back three in a row each. It was a ritual you'd developed when Tyler was on baby sitting duty, and you actually enjoyed the cinnamon burn. You tasted your drink, rolling your eyes as you sipped the tinny taste associated with Bacardi, before grabbing the final shot in front of you and dumping it into the tiki drink.

"Really?" Tyler asked with a raised eyebrow.

You shrugged, "I hate Bacardi, you know that."

Tyler just laughed as he threw back his final shot, "Come on I know you wanna dance."

You let Tyler lead you onto the dance floor, one hand securing your drink firmly. You danced with him for a while, forgetting your annoyance at Jamie for working temporarily. You were laughing and having fun, as Tyler would spin you around and sing along with you. It was completely not sexy, but it was fun and comfortable. Tyler was Jamie's best friend, and you felt almost as safe with him as you did your boyfriend. You'd grown to see him like a playful older brother who would tease you and goof around, but the second someone touched you he's fuck them up.

A few songs in though and he leaned into your ear, "I'm going to hit the head. Stay here." You nodded in acknowledgement as he walked away.

In a place like this it wasn't long before the vultures descended, and a decent looking guy moved in to try and dance with you. "Just waiting for my boyfriend," you'd explained.

"It's okay, I am too," he laughed.

You smiled then and danced a little with him then, soon another guy showed up and your partner left. Tyler still hadn't shown up so you decided to go to the ladies room. As you walked out after washing your hands you held the door open with your foot so you could throw your towel away, not paying attention to your surroundings you were startled when rough hands grab you and pressed you against the brick walk across from the bathroom.

You were about to scream when you recognized the bearded face looming over you, "Jamie?" You questioned. "You scared me."

"Did I?" He mumbled as he hiked your skirt up and pushed into your body as a brought a thick thigh between your legs. The immediate pressure made you gasp in delight, as his lips attacked your neck.

"I don't like watching you dance with other men," he growled as you pushed down onto his thigh harder, dragging your soaked pussy along the dark fabric of his pants. Craving the friction and already desperate for him.

"I-I'm...." You were losing what your wanted to say as he again pressed rough kissed over you'd neck, working down into the cleavage of your dress. You moaned softly at the feel, and bucked into his body. His hands on your hubs suddenly stilled you.

"You're going to cum on my thigh little girl," he said darkly. "But first I think I need to remind you who I am."

Suddenly you felt cold metal touch your inner thigh, as his other hand ripped your flimsy panties from your core. He shoved the lace in his pocket as he spread your slick around your weeping hole, before working you open on his thick finger. You responsive body was preening under the attention, and you eagerly bucked into his hand as his palm grazed your clit.

"Fuck baby, you're so wet," he groaned his head falling into your neck. "Whose got you this wet?"

"You do," you moaned out. "Only you."

"Yeah?" He asked, making you whimper as he removed his hand. He slowly worked the cold barrel of his gun into you soaked channel, as he did that he sucked your juices off his finger.

He worked you until the barrel was seated inside you fully. Before he left it there running his hands along your inner thighs and occasionally grazing your sensitive bud. He was teasing you while your cunt quivered around the gun, you felt so full and stretched around it.

You didn't even notice as Jamie pulled out his phone, but when you saw him take a picture of your body split open on his gun you could've cum right then. He smirked when he saw your hungry eyes watch his every move before hiking you up further by pulling your legs over his hips. You moaned as he nuzzled his face into your neck again and worked his mouth over your favourite spot. You knew well that he'd leave a dark bruise there, and you craved it. You craved that mark of ownership maring your skin. Just the idea made you groan with arousal.

You shuttered as your back brushed against the rough wall in the hallway of the nightclub. The exposed back of your dress creating space for the wall to scratch your delicate skin.

"Please you begged," as Jamie's large hands teased you mercilessly, the warmth a sharp contrast to the cold metal in your soaked cunt.

"You want to act like a desperate whore," Jamie growled in your ear, pushing further into your body. "I'll treat you like a whore." He pulled the gun back just enough, before pushing it roughly back into you. "You'll get off on my gun right here, or I'll make sure you don't cum for weeks little girl."

You sobbed. It was rough, and degrading, but it felt like heaven. You wanted to hate this, but the feel of Jamie's hands on you, as he fucked you with a weapon was indescribable. You wanted more, and yet with a flex of his wrist you felt yourself quiver as you orgasmed all over the shiny metal.

"JAMIE," your cried out as waves of pleasure wracked your body.

As you came down he worked the gun out of you before sliding it into the waistband of his pants. He slowly dragged your cunt along his thigh as you just watched, completely blissed out. He grinned at your expression as you went from being in a post-orgasmic haze, to being fully aroused again, to thrashing against him as you came violent with nothing in your oversensitive core.

He let you come down, cooing in your ear has he did so, "Such a good girl for me." He rubbed soothing hands over your arms and back as he just held you.

Once he'd given you a moment to recover he slowly set you down on shaky knees. You watched him as he pulled the gun out and wiped it off, before pulling the clip from his back pocket and reloading it. You gazed at him shocked as you put it together.

"It wasn't loaded?" You asked, causing Jamie to laugh.

"You thought I'd fuck you with a loaded gun? Come on baby, I told you I'd engage your fantasy I'm not putting my favorite girl at risk," he said with a smile. "Now come on your going to keep my cock warm while I finished working out some more details."

He grabbed your hand and escorted you back to where he'd been all night. He was unashamed as he unzipped his cock and impaled you on it, as you stifled a moan as you settled into his chest. You peppered kisses along his neck as you allowed his beard to tickle the side of your face as he spoke. You felt yourself slowly soaking him as your juices slicked out of your body.

Every once in a while Jamie would look at you and smirk as he felt your walls flutter around him. You were on edge and desperate for friction. By the time you were left alone, realizing that the club around you had closed and it was just you and Jamie you were borderline feral for him. You moved to get off of him, so he could take you home and fuck you, but instead powerful hands held you in place. You looked at Jamie, shocked, before he lifted you slowly and brought you back down roughly.

You understood what he wanted and slowly tucked your knees under you. You worked yourself up his cock, before the hands covering your hips brought you back down. Your responsive body trembled at the give and take you were doing with him. His eyes never left you, watching as you worked yourself to the edge again, he wanted to see you come undone.

With no adrenaline in your veins this time your climax came softer, more subtle, you whimpered out as your body quaked around him. Jamie groaned and pulled your lips to his as he reached his own peak. Once he'd calmed himself he slowly lifted you off I've him. Tucking himself back into his pants he slung a lazy arm around your waist before nodding at the bartender you'd dealt with earlier. He threw some cash on a table and ordered him to lock up. You felt you face heat as you realized you hadn't been alone, but ultimately you didn't care.

It had been a good night.

[cloudywriter]

the lost princess of terrasen

rowaelin month - september 7th 

prompt: fairytale au - (an anastasia au in this case)

important: okay y’all so i went way overboard with this entire au and it got out of hand so now this might just be a full-blown thing. however, with that whole releation and me going crazy with outlining and writing i could really only have this much of the story out and ready for today but i plan on continuing it!! hopefully after rowaelin month. enjoy this little introduction :)

(cw: brief descriptions of violence) 

masterlist, AO3

~~~

At freshly 18, Celaena Sardothien was free. She’d aged out of the orphanage and was finally released to go live her own life, no longer held down in the outskirts of Rifthold. Celaena didn’t want to wait a second longer, the need to leave the horrid place she’d lived the last ten years was ingrained in her bones. 

The woman who ran the orphanage, Clarisse, was cruel. From a young age, she poked at Celaena, commenting constantly on her weight or how she didn’t act like a proper young lady. Her entire life up until this point was spent at the mercy of Clarisse and her stern ways. All the girls in the orphanage were treated as maids and dolls for Clarisse to manipulate. But, Celaena made it, counting down the days until her birthday. 

Now, here she was, stuck out in the cold. She’d imagined her freedom to be more alluring than this instead she was shaking as she wandered through side streets that led to the heart of Rifthold. She carried with her a backpack barely full of her meager belongings and the too-thin coat on her back. Clarisse didn’t even spare her a hat to keep out the cold so she moved her hair to shield her freezing ears the best she could and waddled along the snowy pavement. 

She still had her kingsflame necklace around her neck, though, and that’s all that mattered. Where she had gotten it from she hadn’t a clue. The first memory she possessed was waking up in the very orphanage that would become her prison. Clarisse explained to her that she’d hit her head and a nice man named Arobynn had brought Celaena to Clarisse to be cared for. Clarisse questioned her about her family and upbringing relentlessly but Celaena could not recall a thing. Her mind was blank. For many nights as a young girl, she’d sit upright in the creaky, lumpy bed she occupied and willed herself to remember. She’d cry and scream, banging her fists into her head in frustration when nothing ever surfaced. 

The only connection she had to whatever life she lived before was her kingsflame necklace. And she’d follow that kingsflame to the ends of the continent if it meant she’d one day solve the mystery of her existence. 

Which led her to the first stop on her journey of discovery, Terrasen. Once Celaena had accepted that her memories weren’t coming back and this was the life she’d have to lead she adjusted. She served Clarisse and went to the small, dilapidated school down the street with the other orphans. There she discovered her love of books and the meager library the school offered became her sanctuary. It was there while she read a book on the kingdoms on Erilea, hoping something would strike her familiar she learned that kingsflame flowers only bloomed in one place, the capital of Terrasen, Orynth. 

As a child that discovery was a revelation. Terrasen. Maybe she was from Terrasen. 

As Celaena walked she felt her toes growing increasingly numb, Adarlan’s winters were bitter and she was not equipped with the proper wear. Her teeth chattered but she pushed forward, she needed to get passage to Terrasen. 

She drew the map out of the pocket of her coat once again and checked the status of her journey. Only a little longer until she was at Rifthold’s main dock station. 

The city of Rifthold was big and Celaena felt out of her depth as groups of people swarmed the streets walking to and from their different destinations. It was overwhelming, the smells, the tall buildings, the weather, the noise, the sheer number of people, everything. 

Eventually, she saw the lights of the station and she blew a sigh of relief, she hadn’t been very confident in her ability to read a map. She approached a man sitting in a booth behind a sheet of glass, smoking a cigarette. 

Celaena stepped up to the counter. 

“Hello, sir, I’d like to buy a ticket to Orynth,” she gave him a smirk, leaning casually on the box. She’d learned from many years of coexisting with Clarisse and a revolving door of people that to make it through life you needed a mask. Celaena had crafted her mask carefully and had perfected her act after so many years. She exuded arrogance and confidence so that another soul would never see the scared, lost little girl she truly was. 

The man grunted, blowing a puff of smoke from between his cracked lips. “Do you have your papers, girl?”

Her brain stalled. Papers? She cleared her throat, “papers?”

“Yes,” his scratchy voice replied, “you need papers to cross the border.” 

Celaena’s heart sank but she kept her expression neutral. “Well, I-”

“Listen, girl, I’m not going to sit here and waste your time so don’t sit here and waste mine. If you don’t have the right documents then I can’t sell you a ticket, simple as that,” he held the cigarette between his teeth. 

She searched for some way to turn this situation around, chewing on her bottom lip. 

From the shadows a little ways into the dark alley adjacent to the docks, she heard a hissed whisper. “You, blondie,” an old woman emerged slightly from the shadows, beckoning Celaena forward with her index finger.  

Celaena looked around, the man in the booth was already back to ignoring her, his nose stuck in a newspaper so she decided to approach the woman. She didn’t have much to lose and Celaena thought if it went south she could take her. 

Celaena crept closer, tightening her grip on the strap of her backpack. 

“You need papers?” Her voice was hoarse as if her throat was made of sandpaper. Celaena nodded her head keeping her guard up, watching her surroundings out of her peripheral. 

“I know who can get you some,” her face morphed into a slight smile that unsettled Celaena more than anything. Celaena furrowed her brows, “who?” The woman tsked at her, her hot breath forming a cloud in front of her face. 

“That kind of information isn’t free, my dear.” Celaena had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, everything came with a price in this world. 

Celaena reached around to the side pocket of her backpack, fishing out a few coins she had to spare. She’d saved just enough from doing odd jobs to pay her fare to Terrasen. She deposited the coins into the palm of the old woman’s hand, her knobby fingers running along their smooth edges. 

“Go a few streets north and into the red brick warehouse with the large windows, you can’t miss it. Ask for a Mr. Rowan Whitethorn, he’ll get you the papers,” she instructed, hoarding the scant sum of money she was given as though they were priceless heirlooms. Celaena turned her head in the direction the woman directed as if she could spot the warehouse from here and by the time she rounded back the woman had disappeared once again. 

Celaena huffed and shot another glance at the ticket man, he was still paying no attention, tapping his cigarette out with his finger. She didn’t necessarily want to go on a wild goose chase to obtain these papers but she had no other way of getting them so she breathed deeply and shoved her hands into her pockets and twisted north. 

The woman was right about not being able to miss the warehouse. It was a large, old, imposing structure, clearly, it had not been in use for some time now. Celaena crept closer peering into the foggy windows as she passed the front of the building. She couldn’t see anything and was unconvinced she’d find the elusive ‘Rowan Whitethorn’ inside. 

Nonetheless, she approached a rusting metal door on the side and pushed it open with her gloved hand. The door protested but it miraculously opened revealing a wide area stacked high with boxes along the walls and corners.

She ventured further into the space, dust and broken glass crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t see any signs of life besides maybe some rats. As she neared the opposite corner what could’ve been a makeshift sitting area came into view, blocked from view initially by a stack of boxes. She approached noting the circle of crates, a dusty blanket, and a few books piled on the side. 

She peered at the title of the book on the top of the stack. 

The Royal Family of Terrasen. Mixed emotions surged through her body. 

“Who’s in here?” A male voice boomed nearly rattling the windows. Celaena shuttered, letting her bravo fill her bones as she heard a set of footsteps enter the space. 

+++ 

Rowan Whitethorn’s life since the fall of Terrasen and the reign of the Valg had been a hell-hole, to put it bluntly. His family fell out of status, his parents were slain in the ambush on Orynth’s castle, and Rowan was left in an unfamiliar land at twelve years old. 

A sect of the Whitethorn house had been visiting Terrasen’s court for the holidays when Maeve made her move against the continent. Doranelle crumpled first to her rule and Terrasen followed, the army of Valg she’d amassed was too large to stand against. Adarlan only survived because King Dorian bowed down to Maeve. 

Even now at twenty-two, he has nightmares about that evening. The terror he felt as Valg poured into the ballroom and slaughtered the royals. The terror he saw in the princess of Terrasen’s eyes as she was shoved into the kitchens by her nursemaid where Rowan had happened to take shelter as well. He was scared too, running as soon as his father screamed at him to as the Valg slit his throat. He regretted it deeply, leaving like a coward when the palace was invaded. He regretted the cowering he did in the kitchens as well but when the young princess had burst in the doors, tears flowing freely down her cheeks something had come over him. He had pushed her out into the snow yelling at her to run and she did, scrambling to find her footing.

The rest was a blur, the Vlag hurried into the kitchens soon after but somehow Rowan made it out with his life. The same could not be said for many people in the castle that night. 

Now, Rowan lived in Rifthold as a thief and doer of other’s dirty work. He longed for the day he could get out of this city of nightmares crawling with Valg. One day, he promised himself, one day he’d have to funds to make it back to Wendlyn and witness what had become of his home. 

There was an opportunity, though, that’d heard about from whispers on the streets. Aedion Ashryver. One of the few survivors from Terrasen’s downfall. He chosen to stay in Terrasen’s territory afterward, the country had no real structured ruling now. The old King-Consort Darrow was the closest thing there was to a king but from what he’d gathered the man is old and weak, not the same after the death of his husband, King Orlon. Terrasen had virtually crumbled. 

Somehow, Aedion had built up the Bane and gained standing for himself. A standing he was using to campaign to find his long-lost cousin. How Maeve hadn’t gotten wind of Aedion and his plotting and squashed him, Rowan wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, Aedion was offering a hefty reward for the return of his dear Aelin, the nation’s true queen, convinced she was still alive.

Rowan thought the operation was useless. Her body was never found, that was true, but he imagined she’d likely fled into the Oakwald forest and perished from hypothermia not long after. If he could make a pretty penny from returning the ‘princess’ to Aedion, though, he wasn’t above doing so. 

All Rowan needed was a young, blonde, and blue-eyed woman he could convince to join his cause and he could coach her to be the perfect replacement for Aelin. Truthfully, he wasn’t convinced this could ever be achieved but it was something he’d contemplated. 

Rowan was making his way back to the warehouse he liked to operate his more shady business out of, the biting cold seeping into his clothes. The looming, muddy red-brick building came into view and he pushed the frosted metal door open. Immediately, he was aware that someone had invaded his space. 

Small footsteps had disrupted the layer of dusk along the floor. His hand flew to the dagger strapped to his chest as he prowled further inside. 

“Who’s in here?” he called out, gripping the dagger tightly by its handle. Once he got far enough into the space he could see a young woman was standing near his makeshift seats.

The first thing he noticed was she was beautiful. Long, golden blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, her skin was pale and her lips had a blue tint to them. Rowan pushed aside all those unsavory thoughts, she was an intruder after all. However, he couldn’t help but study her, she was dressed far too light for the dead of winter, not even a hat on her head. 

She looked right back at him, accessing him as he was her. She didn’t look scared to have been caught trespassing, no, honestly, she looked annoyed as if he was interrupting her. 

“Who the hell are you?”

~~~

let me know if y’all like it so far and would like to see more, xoxo

[heliads]

The Value of a Friend

Peter Parker is fairly surprised when a classmate, Y/N L/N, is able to figure out his secret identity as Spider-Man. He’ll come to rely on her over the next few months, although he may make a surprise discovery about his feelings for her on the school trip to Europe.

masterlist

Peter Parker’s legs swing absentmindedly over the edge of the roof. There’s nothing much going on right now- brick, stucco, and metal as far as the eye can see. The lights of the city that never sleeps reflect off of the windows; a thousand sights and sounds and happenings littered down the boulevards. Despite all the comings and goings, the rush of people across the streets, nothing major has happened all night. Peter knows he technically shouldn’t be hoping for crime, but he does want at least one thing to happen to justify him staying up this late on patrol duty.

Peter’s got the usual mask pulled down over his face, disguising the heavy circles under his eyes. He may have superhuman strength and durability, but his powers don’t appear to help him run on less sleep. However, Peter’s used to staying up long nights patrolling. This particular moonlit outing isn’t unusual.

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye, and Peter shifts to glance over at the orderly streets behind him. There- a girl walking down a sidewalk, her pace brisk and hurried to steer her quickly through an alleyway. With a rush, Peter realizes that he recognizes the girl. Her name is Y/N L/N, she’s in some of his classes. He wouldn’t exactly consider her a best friend, maybe more of an acquaintance. This isn’t due to any specific animosity, Peter just never really got the chance to talk to her. Sometimes, however, he wishes he had.

Y/N isn’t just smart like the other students in his class, she’s clever. Peter has seen the way her eyes light up when she figures something out, the same light that winks out from underneath her eyelashes when she laughs over a bad joke with her friends. Peter shakes himself for a second. Why is he thinking so much about her eyes? He shouldn’t have the way she smiles memorized at all, ready to call up at a moment’s notice.

Besides, Peter realizes with a dull chill, Y/N’s eyes are different from Peter’s on one grand scale. Y/N has no superpowered senses, and so she cannot tell that there are two or three men shadowing her as she wends through the streets. Peter curses softly, realizing that the men are definitely following her. Without a second thought, he leaps down from the building, swinging towards them on ropes of spider silk.

Peter’s goal was to take them out before they got close enough to reach Y/N. However, they were too far away and it doesn’t look like a secret rescue will be happening tonight. They’ve already cornered her in a narrow street, hands pulling guns out of coat pockets. Peter acts as quickly as he can- spiderweb launched at one, dragging him back against the wall of the street. The other Peter takes on directly, aiming a blow at the man’s head that knocks him backward before Peter hits him again. Peter would usually tie the thugs up and leave them for some other soul to deal with, but the men are already running away without a second’s hesitation and he doesn’t much feel like trying to track them down.

There’s a soft sound behind him, like a gasp of breath, and Peter turns around to see Y/N standing there, looking shaken but unhurt. Peter panics for a moment before remembering that his mask is still snugly in place. She would have no way of knowing him. Peter takes a hesitant step closer, reaching out his hands to show that he means no harm. “I’m, uh, Spider-Man. Are you alright?”

Y/N shakes her head hastily. “No, I’m fine. Thank you for saving me from those guys.” Peter waves a hand. “No problem. All in the job description, you know?” Y/N laughs, but the sound dies slowly from her lips as she stares at him. Her head cocks slightly to the side, as if she’s considering something. She raises a hand slowly to point at him like she’s unsure of a truth but determined to say it nonetheless.

“Are you Peter Parker?” Peter stiffens, turning hurriedly to make sure that nobody could have heard her. Dimly, he realizes that he should have denied this first instead of acting like this was something to be hidden. “Uh, no. I don’t know who that is.” The lie sounds fake even to his own lips. A small smile is growing over Y/N’s lips, as if she’s incredulous. “You are. Peter Parker from chem class is Spider-Man.”

Peter figures that the game is up, so he tugs his mask from his head. Y/N’s eyes dart to his face, washing over every detail as if in awe. “It’s true. You’re actually Spider-Man?” Peter nods thickly. “How did you know it was me?” A slight blush forms in Y/N’s cheeks. “I, uh, you looked familiar.” Peter raises an eyebrow. “I was wearing a mask.” Y/N blushes harder. “You have the same voice. Is that better? You sound the exact same.”

Peter lets out a huff of breath at that. He can’t deny it- he’s messed around with voice settings on the suit before but never bothered to permanently give himself a different-sounding voice as Spider-Man. Now he’s paying the price for it. “Maybe.” A slight smile tugs at the corners of Y/N’s lips. “You were ready to be Spider-Man but you didn’t even have an excuse prepared to explain yourself?” Peter feels defensive. “Well, most people don’t actually figure it out. You’re the first, actually. Well, I had to tell Ned but only because he saw me crawling on the ceiling. I didn’t realize he was there, though. I don’t usually crawl on ceilings.”

Peter realizes he’s rambling and does his best to stop talking. Y/N’s smiling at him again, and he feels surprisingly fine about it. “I would hope not. Crawling on ceilings is kind of hard to explain away.” Peter scratches the back of his head, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, that’s kind of why I had to tell him.” Y/N flashes him a grin. “Well, I appreciate the rescue, Peter-Not-Spider-Man. I’ll see you in class?” Suddenly, Peter doesn’t want to leave. “I can walk you home if you like? I hear it’s kind of dangerous out here.” Y/N nods her approval. “Sure thing. Just make sure you put your mask back on first.”

Peter becomes friends with Y/N after that. There’s almost no way not to- she knows the biggest secret of his life, how could they not be friends? Ned is thrilled to find another ‘Friend of Spider-Man’, as he dubs Y/N, and the three of them get along surprisingly well. MJ, too, is glad to see Y/N around, although MJ has yet to discover Peter’s secret. At the rate he’s going, though, Peter has a shifting feeling that she’ll find out soon enough.

It’s after one of his late night patrol rounds that Peter finds himself knocking on Y/N’s window. He’s slumped against the window sill, hand pressed to his side. There was a mass robbery on the East Side, something Peter stupidly thought he could handle without a second thought. He stopped the robbery, that was true, but they’d managed to fire off several shots with some newfangled weaponry that even Tony would have to take a second look at. The result is this: a bloody cut on his side that doesn’t look like it will be going away any time soon.

After a couple of seconds, Y/N throws open her window. She leans out, eyes widening when she sees Peter still dressed in his Spider-Man suit. “What’s going on?” She hisses, then her gaze finds the bloody slit on his side. “What is that?” She glances behind her, as if making sure everyone is asleep, then gestures hurriedly for him to climb through the window after her. “Quick, come in.” Once Peter’s standing in her room, Y/N closes the window, then leans against it, staring at the blood on his hands and the nervous look in his eyes.

“What happened?” Peter grimaces. “Robbery. Bit off a little more than I can chew. Do you have a first aid kit? I think I need to get this bandaged up but if I go home now Aunt May will freak out. I can’t stress her anymore, and I don’t think Ned knows how to stop bleeding.” Y/N shakes her head. “Gotcha. Give me a second, I can grab some supplies.” Y/N heads out of her room, reappearing in a minute or so with a box of bandages and medical supplies held triumphantly in front of her. 

She directs Peter to sit on a chair by her desk, and he does so, careful not to get any blood on, well, anything. Y/N takes a seat opposite him, bandages and an antibiotic for disinfecting the wound in her hands. Her brow furrows as she begins to treat the wound, and Peter can’t help but let his gaze linger across the determined look in her eyes, the slight curve of her lips as she focuses on the cut on his side.

After a while she straightens up, and Peter looks away hurriedly, feeling a slight blush heat up his cheeks. “I think that should hold you for a while. You said you had superhuman strength and stuff like that, right? You’ll probably be able to sleep it off.” Peter climbs back through the window, but just before he swings away he turns back, leaning his head through the opening to Y/N’s room. “Thanks a lot, Y/N. I mean it. I can’t think of anyone else I could turn to.” Y/N smiles at him, a smile that seems to light up the whole room. “No problem, Peter. If you’ve got my back, I’ve got yours.”

Peter is certainly grateful for his friendship with Y/N over the next couple of months. He ends up making a couple more stops by her room for help patching up various injuries, and when he has to deal with the aftermath of Tony’s death, she’s always there with some way to hear him out and cheer him up. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he would do without her.

When Peter gets word of the school trip to Europe, he thinks it’s the best thing that could happen to him in a while. Time to himself, with friends, touring interesting places. He’s hoping that a change in scene will finally let him breathe for a second, let him put aside the mask and suit and be Peter Parker once more. However, the appearance of the suit in his suitcase and one Nick Fury convinces him that this trip won’t just be a vacation, however much he wants it. Hopefully, he’ll have time to tell MJ how he feels in between the attacks of the elementals.

MJ. What is Peter supposed to do about MJ? He knows he has feelings for her, that much is obvious. He had a plan, carefully laid out steps that would culminate in Peter telling MJ he loves her and presenting her with a black dahlia necklace. However, as the fights with the elementals grow and grow, he has a feeling that won’t entirely work out. What is he supposed to do now?

He’s confessed his plan to Ned, just to hear another point of view. He told Y/N actually, at a different point in time. She’d seen the necklace and was wondering if he had a sudden taste in jewelry. It was strange, though, the second Peter had told her how he felt about MJ Y/N had gotten this sudden look, like she was shuttering the light in her eyes closed against the world. The sight of her, the smile slipping from her lips, made Peter feel like he’d done something terribly wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. Y/N seemed fine after that, but he did notice that she stopped talking about the dahlia necklace or anything in the plan at all.

Things with the elementals end up going from bad to worse. Peter finds out that the man he thought was his friend, Quentin Beck, was actually the one behind the elementals all along. In fact, the elementals were nothing more than elaborate holograms, and Peter had gone and given Beck control over E.D.I.T.H. in the form of Tony’s glasses. Mr. Stark’s last gift to him, and Peter had tossed it away in a moment of misplaced trust.

It’s not like Peter is alone, though. MJ found out about Peter’s secret identity as Spider-Man, and now she, Y/N, and Ned are figuring out how to take down Mysterio alongside Peter. Peter feels a sudden rush of gratitude as he looks back at his friends. With people like them, people that matter that much to him, Peter feels like he could take on the world. And with Mysterio’s control over E.D.I.T.H., he just may have to.

The battle ends up going surprisingly well. Peter manages to turn the tide on Mysterio, refusing to fall for any of the man’s schemes and tricks. In the end, he is able to wrest control of E.D.I.T.H. away from Mysterio, thus enabling him to remove all of the drones and end the man’s plans once and for all. Now that the fight is over, though, Peter almost doesn’t know what to do.

He finds himself stumbling down Tower Bridge, limping from all of the various injuries he’s managed to obtain during the fight. The first thought in his head is that he should look for Y/N, for the one girl he always turns to whenever he needs help. Then MJ runs out from among the cars, and Peter focuses instead on her. She dashes over to him, throwing her arms around him and telling him that yes, everyone is okay and yes, he saved them all.

Distantly, Peter can see the figures of Ned and Y/N approaching, but it’s alright. They’re his friends, he doesn’t have to worry about pulling his mask back on. Peter pulls away, fishing around in his pocket for the black dahlia necklace. He feels crushed to see that it’s in pieces, but MJ says something about how she likes it better broken. It’s funny, though- Y/N has always been able to fix things. To fix him.

Peter pushes Y/N out of his mind. He’s not thinking about his friend, he’s thinking about MJ. MJ, the girl he loves, the girl who is right in front of him. The girl who’s just leaned forward and kissed him. Peter lets himself kiss her back, lets himself lean into her and block out the rest of the world. There’s the screech of traffic echoing around him from the parts of the city that haven’t yet shut down, and that is what drags Peter back to reality.

They break apart after a few seconds. MJ starts to step away, saying something about how she should probably get going before too many people see familiar Midtown students with Spider-Man. Peter nods, noting that Ned and Y/N have changed direction upon seeing MJ head their way once more. There’s a strange expression on Y/N’s face, a strange emptiness that hadn’t been there before. Peter wants to go run after her, to say something to make that quiet sorrow go away, but his feet feel leaden in place and all he can do is watch as she walks away.

Peter gets back to his hotel room late that night. Ned files in after him, chuckling softly about how his best friend managed to save the day and get with MJ in one go. However, Ned’s face falls as he says this. “Did you really have to kiss her in front of Y/N, though?” Peter frowns over at his friend. “What do you mean?” Ned spreads his hands. “Well, you know, because Y/N likes you. I thought it would be kind of mean to kiss MJ when she was right there.”

Peter feels like the ground is falling away underneath his feet. “Y/N likes me?” Ned nods. “Didn’t you know? She’s had a crush on you for a while now. Sorry, Peter, I thought you knew. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” Peter waves away his friend’s apology, already heading to the door. Ned’s voice stops him. “You won’t be able to find her. She was scheduled to take an earlier trip home. Remember? It was planned out earlier in the month. She had to make it home early for some family reason, she talked about it on the flight.” Peter remembers this now, and his stomach turns at the thought of Y/N on that plane, all alone and stuck with the picture of him and MJ kissing.

Ned turns away to pack his suitcase, but Peter can’t think about anything productive at all. He’s beginning to realize that he’s made a very big mistake, something he can only hope to undo. There was a reason he hadn’t felt anything when he kissed MJ, when it had been awkward and emotionless. It wasn’t just because they were tired teenagers and didn’t know what to do, it was because he didn’t love her at all. No, the girl Peter loved is on a plane right now, and she thinks that Peter doesn’t care about her when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

What is he supposed to do? Y/N will hate him for this. Somehow, that one thought is enough to motivate him to reach towards his suitcase, to start packing again. He has to make it back, has to find his way home to tell Y/N how he really feels. He can only hope that Y/N will let him stick around long enough to say it.

Y/N doesn’t come to her window for a long time after Peter knocks. He’s almost beginning to think that it’s a lost cause and she’ll never want to speak to him again when the sash gently opens and Y/N leans out. She’s usually used to seeing Peter crouched on her windowsill, but for some reason she startles at seeing him like it’s his first time visiting.

Peter speaks softly, his voice barely louder than the wind. “I think I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.” Y/N holds up a hand. “I don’t need any explanations. You can do whatever you want, you didn’t have to come by.” Peter shakes his head. “Yes, I did. I know you had feelings for me once. I was kind of hoping that you hadn’t changed your mind about me.”

Peter ends up leaving Y/N’s room much later. He has a grin that he can’t seem to shake, and a bounce in his step that doesn’t fade for hours. He might just have managed to save himself, to convince the girl he loves that she should take a chance and stay with him. Besides, he’s kissed her enough to say a thousand words.

peter parker/marvel tag list: @namoreno​, @mycosmicparadise​

[writemekpop]

Lipstick On Your Collar (Part 3) | Nakamoto Yuta

Pairings: Nakamoto Yuta x Reader & Wong Yukhei (Lucas) x Reader 

Summary: All actions have consequences. Fucking Lucas to spite your cheating husband Yuta definitely has a few. Two wrongs don’t make a right - or do they?

Genre: Husband!Yuta, Angst

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Infidelity, Sexual Content, Body Image

Gif: @scorpioszn​

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ⭐ | Part 4

“So…” Lucas began. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this?”

You almost rolled your eyes at his cheesy pick-up line.

But Lucas was handsome in a way that young men no longer were. And you couldn’t ignore the way his biceps bulged through his crisp white shirt.  

“My husband doesn’t want to fuck me anymore,” you said, matter-of-factly.

Lucas blinked twice.

Then, he shrugged his shoulders and gestured for two more drinks. “Sucks to be him, I guess,” he said, flashing you a grin that made your knees weak.

You admired Lucas over the rim of your martini glass. The firm set of his jaw, the cherry plumpness of his lips, the length of his toned legs… You felt a flutter inside that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Lucas placed his hand on top of yours.

You watched your hand become engulfed under his large one. Lucas made you feel small, dainty. You liked that feeling.

Lucas’s voice was low. “There’s a hotel down the road. How about we spend the night there? Together.”

You were scared. Of saying yes. Of saying no. Of saying yes then realising that you should have said no. Of being naked in front of another man when your body sometimes made you feel like weeping.

You decided on yes in the end.

You watched Lucas’s dark eyes light up. You let him guide you outside with his hand on the small of your back.

Before you made it far down the street, Lucas led you into an alleyway. He gently pushed you till your back was flush against the wall.

Lucas knelt down to the ground and hoisted one of your legs over his shoulder. Then he plunged himself between your legs and kissed you in a way that made you see stars.

The bricks dug their jealous fingers into your back, but you didn’t care; you couldn’t even think straight.

You were still trembling when Lucas booked a hotel room and pulled you inside it.

Lucas had had other affairs. You could tell, from way he cupped his hand round the back of your neck when he kissed you, from the way his caramel eyes glossed over your wedding ring like it was nothing. You were relieved. You didn’t want this to mean more than you intended.

Lucas laid you down onto the bed. You put your hands round his neck and felt the muscles under the skin.

Lucas wanted to make you feel good. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that.

His own hands were slowly moving down your side, across your ribs, over your tummy.

Your body felt as if it were swaying back and forth with the movement of his large fingers, in you, around you, all over you.

Lucas moved between your legs. He opened you gently and pushed himself inside. You watched him as he rolled forwards onto his arms until you were full of him.

He said, “God, you’re so tight,” and you blushed.

He asked why you were embarrassed, but you couldn’t tell him.

You couldn’t tell him that giving birth to three children made you worry about this kind of thing. So you just squeezed his shoulders, silently saying keep going.

He began to move faster, and his eyes narrowed with pleasure and finally closed. You closed your eyes too and held onto his arms, letting yourself be rocked back and forth.

When Lucas finally opened his eyes, he was breathing heavily and smiling.

You smiled back at him.

Lucas lowered himself to your side and pulled your head onto his shoulder. You could see the tiny beads of sweat form a line down the centre of his honey chest. You could hear his heart beating as he drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly, Lucas’s arm around your waist felt like a cage. You had to get out of there: back to your husband and your children, your home.

So, for the second time that night, you slipped out of a bed where a sleeping man lay blissfully unaware of your actions.

----

Soon, you were kneeling on the leather backseat of a taxi, your heels dangling in your hands.

You lifted a curl of your hair and sniffed it. Your nose wrinkled. Lucas’s flashy cologne, the sour twist of alcohol, the grime of what you’d done – they were unmistakeable. You knew you should feel dirty inside, too.

But you didn’t.

All you could feel was an overwhelming rush of relief. It was as if the fist clenched around your throat had finally loosened.

You felt the ghost of Lucas’s strong grasp, his lips at your neck. He made you feel like someone worth touching. Almost… beautiful.

But that was all. A whisper slipped from your lips, “I love Yuta.”

The taxi driver turned. “Did you say something, miss?”

You grinned. “Don’t worry about it.”  

And you realised you meant it: you did still love your husband. The score was even. He took something from you, and now you’d done the same.

As the growl of the engine stilled, your heart hardened.

Yuta would never know about tonight. In return for this little white lie, he’d get a wife who loved him, touched him, was a better mother to your children. That wasn’t a hard price to pay, right?

---

After the taxi dropped you home, you fumbled for your keys, but your bag was empty. You gulped. How were you going to get in without being seen?

You noticed the study window hanging open. Swallowing your last shreds of dignity, you hitched one foot onto the sill and hoisted your torso half inside the house.

A pen fell off your son’s desk and clattered to the floor. You flinched, waiting for the shout of discovery.

But it never came.

Sighing, you pushed through the rest of the way, and landed in a heap on the floor.

As you crept up the stairs and slipped into the shower, you expected to be caught. But by some miracle, the family stayed silent in their beds.

When you were ready, you eased open the door to Yuta’s bedroom - your bedroom. A tray of tea teetered on your forearm.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you called.

The sight of Yuta sent warmth washing through you. Your heart clenched as you remembered you used to do this every morning.

Yuta groaned and rolled over… Then you saw his muscled body tense. He rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up.

When he saw you staring, he pulled the duvet over his naked torso, cheeks reddening. You averted your gaze as you placed the tray down. What had you two become?

“Y-you made me tea?”

You smiled. “Well, it’s not like you’re going to make it, are you?”

Yuta’s face fell. “Oh… sorry.”

You shook your head. It was a joke; clearly you weren’t ready for those yet. You walked around the bed and wrapped your arms around Yuta’s muscled shoulders.

“How come you’re-” Yuta began, but you silenced him by touching your lips to his.

You felt him freeze, then slowly melt into your second first-kiss.

As you deepened the kiss, your fingers remembered his smooth neck, his shoulders, the mole on his arm.

You waited to feel a convulsion of disgust, for your chest to collapse in once more. But, same as Paris all those years ago, everything about him was sweet to you.

As your lips tilted onto Yuta’s, it felt like coming home.

Just then, his fingers clamped around your shoulders. “What’s that?”

Fear spiked down your spine.

You followed his gaze… to your chest. A red-tinged bruise squatted on the swell of your right breast.

The hickey was fresh. And definitely not made by your husband. You felt, rather than saw Yuta’s stare rise up to your face.

“Does this mean what I think it means?”

As you met Yuta’s eyes, you just shrugged and smiled. You owed him nothing.

“Y/n… don’t mess with me. What the fuck is going on?” Yuta’s grip on your shoulder tightened till it hurt. Your whole body tensed.

You shook him off. “Here, you haven’t even touched your tea.”  

Then you turned and picked up the mug. But it was the worst thing you could possibly have done.

Because Yuta, eyes red and glassy, slapped the mug from your hand. It crashed into the wall beside you, splashing boiling tea everywhere.

You gulped and edged away.

Yuta’s voice was steely. “Y/n, you have three seconds to explain what’s going on. Three, two-”

“Wait!”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ⭐ | Part 4

[katsukikitten]

In which you find yourself fake dating Bakugou to appease his mother. Thank @bakugotrashpanda​ that I even write. Comment your thoughts below or if you’re shy leave me an ask! AGED UP/PRO HERO AU, and dolls there are currently no warnings.   Part on is HERE

Anger fuels your actions as you withdraw a knife, face twisted into a feral snarl as you close the distance between you and your not so lucky boss. He matches your disgusted features, closing faster than you can to keep your knife from finding purchase between his third and fourth ribs. He corners you out of sight, the woman who was attending to you turns away with a blush. Truly thinking the two of you were having an intimate moment when it was anything but.

"This joke isn't fucking funny." You growl struggling to keep your voice low as his vice grip on your biceps becomes harsher. 

"It's not a fucking joke." He hisses, before one of his hands runs through his hair. A sign of stress you noticed for the ash blonde, while the other hand sets blunt nails into your skin. You blow air through your nose as if you were a steaming dragon waiting for him to explain. 

"My mom won't leave me the hell alone about a girlfriend. Like I fucking have time for one." He starts and you break away from his grip.  

"Then we just pretend." A huff while he shakes his head. 

"But we have to make it look good. She will expect PDA, and a lot of it." You laugh at his statement while he looks away. 

"Please as if Dynamight is touchy feely." You tease making hand motions as you let your fingers play against his clothed muscles. He gives you a pointed look, something odd shines deeply in those dark eyes. Something like hurt, your smile falters for a moment as you watch him peek over a guarded wall. 

"Growing up I was. And still am with people I...know well. Plus she's already seen me in a serious relationship." 

"Then why aren't you bringing her?" The venom escapes you faster than you can stop it. Regret blooms in your stomach as you watch his guard blow sky high, burning sugar fills the air. His glare pure anger as he bites out 

"She only loved me for my Pro-hero money." 

He turns away from you to collect himself, angry that he's still angry over a bitch that should be long forgotten. Still your tongue was sharper than any knife on your thick yet fit body. He sighs, trying to let the tension free from his shoulders before he reluctantly offers you his large, ungloved hand. 

The thought of your bare palm touching his sends your stomach into a summersault before he grabs onto your hand himself, even interlacing your fingers. 

It had been years since you held someone's hand, let alone been close enough to smell them. A cold sweat prickles over your skin before he speaks. 

"Let's make this shit look good." 

With that he pulls you out of the store, setting off rhythmic short blasts so nothing but blinding light can be caught on film. Some camera's lose their lenses thanks to your sly hands as you shove them deep in Bakugou's jacket that he insisted you'd wear over your cute outfit. That his mom would take it more seriously that you wore his clothes that he might have offered to you. 

Your hand feels warm in Bakugou's as he guides the two of you down the street, eyeing jewelry through glass windows here and there. He tries to keep his focus on the way to the bakery instead of how small your hand is in his.

"So is there something special about tonight's dinner? Any sort of occasion?" You prompt, anything to avoid the squeezing in your heart. 

"It's her birthday today." He says nonchalantly as your anxiety skyrockets. 

"Birthday?! Baku-" 

"Katsuki." He cuts you off, sending you a glare, "It has to be Katsuki or some dumb pet name from now on, Princess."

You point daggers as you glare up at him, his slightly messy hair dances in the wind as his faded sides do anything to protect him from the biting cold. You think to offer him his jacket back, it felt three sizes too big. 

"Look, Katsuki a birthday dinner is a big fucking deal. She'll think we are serious." The two of you stop just before the bakery, he let's go of your hand to open the door for you, a habit he's picked up from Kirishima. You step inside the warmth and let the smell of mouth watering sweets over take your senses. The smell fights with the smokey sweet scent that rolls off of Bakugou as he crowds closer to you due to the busy cafe.

"Good. She needs to think we are. Before you say anything else it's one dinner. She won't remember by Christmas." He snarls, pressing his hand into your lower back to gently push you forward in line. Suddenly someone behind the counter waves to catch your attention. 

"Ah Dyna-" The clerk clears his throat before he causes a frenzy, most people already too timid of Bakugou to approach him, having you the tough as nails hero by his side makes him seem even deadlier. 

"Bakugou-sama. I just finished the decorations for the order. Would you like to approve it?" 

"Yea yea." He says cooly, eyes glancing over his usual cup of an iced americano, he taps the lid and the Barista gives him her full attention. Lashes batting as she practically squirms with pleasure beneath his weighted gaze, you fight to keep the disgust off your face. How could anyone fawn over this wet blanket?

"I need a toasted white mocha iced coffee with sweet cream." His voice is smooth and she begins to get to work even without his please but you're caught too off guard to scold him.  How did he know your coffee order? 

You always went to get the coffee with Kirishima and only then for an excuse to get out of the office and away from a pig headed blonde. 

"Trying something new?" She asks as she sets it down, her number clearly written on this cup as well. You keep your face blank as she ignores you. 

"Maybe." He says giving her little eye contact as the owner pushes her away to show off the cake.  He removes the lid of the box and before it is all the way off a genuine, although small, smile forms on his face as he stares at the beautiful array of flowers in icing. Another surprise that his face can go so soft before it changes in an instant. His normal cocky smile returning as he removes his wallet and over pays for it all. 

"This is too…" But the owner is cut off by a nasty vermillion glare before he passes you your coffee grabbing for his own and the bag. 

"See ya round." Is all he offers before slipping out of the ringing door. Stunned into silence you drink your delicious drink as you two make your way back to his car. 

"It's cold enough that the icing won't get fucked up. Are you cold? I want to get that hag one more thing. Not sure what though." He says gently placing the cake into the floorboard of the back seat. 

"Well for starters I'm sure she'd love it if you stopped calling her a hag. That's rude, dickface." You say finishing your coffee, body singing from the much needed energy. He rolls his eyes at your comment, grabbing for your trash as he tosses his empty cup as well. 

"Yea well, she pisses me off." He grunts, eyes shifting for cameras before letting his hand slide down your forearm to your hand. You jolt from the touch but absentmindedly lean into his warmth. 

"Mmhmm." You affirm with a bit of an attitude. He sneers down at you as the two of you actively look for anything that screams Bakugou Mitsuki. 

Although you aren't so sure you know what that would be. Your mind wanders to what his family is like as his molten eyes rove over window shops and glare at passer byers. Anyone with their phone out and aimed at him gets an especially intimidating look. 

"Do we have a background to our fake relationship?" You ask, curiosity bubbling through your bloodstream carried by caffeine. 

"Kinda explains itself doesn't it?" He prompts, "We work together a lot. She's heard your name before." 

"Oh." Is all you can say, would his mom ask for details? Well it wouldn't be too hard to believe that she would want the story most likely from you, hoping you'll gush over the details any other man would skimp. A sigh leaves your lips before your eyes catch an odd glint in the light, ahead of you two is a small woman beneath a parasol as if the lazy winter sun threatened the day. Your eyes blow wide as she turns, heart racing in your chest as you see the black kimono and fox mask slightly askew. 

Quickly you grab onto Bakugou's black dress shirt, backing yourself up against a brick wall, guiding him with you. 

"What are you doing?" He hisses as your brain panics, he sees a rare twinge of fear in your eyes. Setting him in high alert, his skin crackles as he tries to summon his quirk. 

"It's just...I think I saw my ex and I'm not ready to see him yet." A lie, a bold face lie as you fight the screaming need in your blood. To withdraw a knife, to send it through that bitch's third eye chakra. 

But if you did, then everyone would know. 

Bakugou would know. 

You gulp down the instinct. 

"Where?" He growls leaning closer to you to block your face. The busy crowd overlaps the petite woman in black before it parts again leaving you with an uneasy pit in your stomach. 

"I-" You catch your breath, smoothing his dress shirt as your eyes are fixated to the spot, "I guess I only thought I saw him." 

Your voice threatens to crack and in the three years the two of you have worked closely together, he has never seen you like this. Worried, disheveled almost. He leans in close, leveling himself to you as he stares into your eyes. 

"Did he…?" His eyes linger over your scars for a second, unknowingly and for the first time, Bakugou makes you feel weak. Your eyes screw into a nasty sneer before you give him a light shove. 

"No." You hiss, wanting to cross your arms but after what looked like a kiss, you gently relax your face, grabbing for his hand as you pull him along.  Suddenly tired of the easy stroll and knowing exactly what to get his mother.  

"A watch? Not a bad idea." He says as the two of you look over the case. 

"No, too old fashioned. Your mom would like this." A smile forms on your lips as your finger taps the glass case over a silver bracelet. In your head you've seen four different ways to take the bracelet without alarm or notice until it was much too late. Instead you flag someone down. 

"Do you all still inscribe in house?" You ask, earning a nod from the attendant, "Perfect. Now Ba- Katsuki you just have to think of something nice to say." 

He glares down at the bracelet for a long time before he writes something down on the form. After an hour the man returns asking Bakugou to confirm the writing after a nod and a few minutes the hot head is passed a delicate white bag. 

Time blurs together as your eyes search the crowd for a haunting fox mask while Bakugou guides the two of you to the car. Shutting the passenger door behind you and only then do you let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

The drive isn't long before Bakugou pulls up in front of a nice two story townhome, parking his black sports car.

"Get out." He states, slipping out of the car himself only to wait impatiently by your door. 

"This is turning into a lot more than half a day." 

"Make it through this dinner and I'll make it worth your while." He snarls, picking up the gift and cake before heading to the front door. He slides in his old key and opens the door to his childhood home expecting you to follow him in. Tentatively you do, slipping off your shoes much slower than him as he rushes to the kitchen. Your heart rushes in your ears banging against your ribcage as your mind races. You had never been in a home so nice before, well not invited anyway. You always had to resort to climbing through windows or picking the lock to reveal the shiny contents of inside. 

Was this what it was like to grow up in a home?

Your third thought only after mentally logging the windows and doors, listing the valuables in descending order. Your eyes wander over the pictures on the foyer table, you smirk to yourself as you see a tiny Bakugou with what must be his mother and Father. They are all laughing and for a moment your heart hurts as you think of your sister shivering under a piss covered blanket.

"Oi! Come here." Bakugou calls from somewhere within the house, you pass the stairs and small hall into the dining room with tatami doors that open into the kitchen. 

"Sit." He orders, pointing to the low dining room table. 

"I'm not a dog, I'm your 'date' Asshole." You snarl, "What are you doing anyway?" 

"What's it fucking look like? I'm cooking! Ma will be home by the time I'm done. Get comfortable, bitch face." 

"Wow what a great pet name." You hiss, collapsing into the pillows with a sigh, part of you wished this was a kotatsu so you could take a nap. Instead you stare at the ceiling mind wandering as the smell of something good floats through the house. You think of how warm the home feels compared to the blistering wind that whips outside, reminding you that maybe you should fix your hair before meeting his parents. 

"Bathroom?" You whine, still unmoving on the floor. The hot head sticks half his body over the threshold to stare down at you. His glare speaks a thousand words. 

"Yea yea hands to myself I got it." 

"Upstairs, to the right."

"Got it boss!" You fake salute from the floor before rising. Taking the stairs quickly, fully intending to take a right but the door at the top of the stairs is slightly open. A faint smell of caramel tickles your nose as you near closer. Peering inside you see what had to be Bakugou's childhood bedroom, seemingly untouched. Bed made, All might and singed villains hang from the walls, some long forgotten laundry in a basket and a bookshelf filled with a variety books. 

His room was bigger than your current studio apartment and all you can do is sigh. And wonder. Trying not to feel jealous over the nice life he clearly had growing up while you were kept in a dark room to "strengthen your mind" for days at a time. Still it's not as if it were Bakugou's fault, he was just lucky. And you wouldn't wish your childhood on anyone. 

Not even Bakugou. 

Your record mentioned your thefts but never your much darker past. And how could they? It had been drilled into you how to clean up after yourself.

Habit forces your hand for something, anything as you snatch a small keychain of Allmight and shove it into your jeans pocket. 

"You lost?" Bakugou yells through the quiet home. 

"No, a woman takes her time!" You shout back slamming the door. Staring into your reflection as you wish for the night to end. 

It doesn't end as quickly as you'd like but it goes by at a decent pace. Introductions come easy and Mitsuki smiles brightly at you which feels like a good sign. Dinner goes by smoothly, the food delicious as you even help yourself to seconds. 

Surprisingly the Bakugous are easy to talk to, it felt as if you'd always know his parents. Laughing over shared stories and even listening intently to their work and fashion. 

"So what did you think?" Mitsuki asks as Katsuki goes to clear the table. You try to stand to help only for his broad hand to land on your shoulder, forcing you back into a seated position. You straighten your back. 

"Ah dinner was delicious. I didn't know Katsuki-kun could cook so well." You smile as her face begins to sour. Uh oh.  

"KATSUKI ARE YOU NOT FEEDING HER? HOW HAS SHE NOT HAD YOUR FOOD NOT ONCE? YOU JERK YOU BETTER NOT BE SOME ASSHOLE THAT MAKES THE WOMAN COOK!" 

"LISTEN YOU HA-!" He stops himself and glances at you causing you to quickly intervene. 

"Oh Bakugou-san…" 

"Mitsuki-san." She inturrpts, suddenly level headed as she looks to you. 

"Mitsuki-san, Katsuki and I have only been dating officially for a month. We haven't had the chance for a home cooked meal yet." You lie with a sweet worried smile that Mitsuki buys. 

"I see, so what is it that you like about my bullish son?"  

Nothing, is what you want to say, looking at him to buy you time as you think. Slowly the words come to you. You think of how he knew your coffee order, how angry he looked on your behalf when he thought the person who carved you up was someone you once loved. 

"Underneath all that brutish attitude is a really nice guy. He can be kind and caring. He is heroic despite his mouth." He looks as surprised as his mother when you speak before she smiles. Bakugou keeps his eyes trained on you as he returns from the kitchen with the cake and gift. 

"Here." Bakugou sets the small gift box in front of his mom, who tears into it immediately. She smiles looking down at the bracelet as she turns it to see the inscription inside. Her eyes water as Masaru smiles reading the words aloud. 

"Family first." He rubs Mitsuki's back as she quickly wipes away a stray tear. 

"I think it's time for the photo album." 

"NO!" 

"YES!" She slams the old book down, flanking your other side to look over the pages with you.  Awkwardly you offer a smile as Katsuki groans beside you. 

"Mooooom!"

"Hush ungrateful brat! It's my birthday!" Mitsuki says as if it's final, Katsuki grumbles in defeat. 

She pours over the pictures, pointing out things here and there, after a while you begin to smile. Relishing over the fact you're probably the only person who's seen their boss' embarrassing baby pictures. 

"I should blow these the fuck up!" Bakugou growls, reaching for the album. You grab onto his poppin hand to stop him. 

"No, you're so lucky you have these…" Fuck, you're about to make things super awkward, there will be a dreaded question and no matter how many times you answer it, even if it is a lie, it hurts. Feeling as though an icy hand cradles your heart as it beats, fingers becoming an uncomfortable vice. 

"Why? Did something happen to your photos?" The pity in Mitsuki's voice digs beneath your skin, you sigh. 

"They were lost to a fire." An easier lie to the actual truth. Honestly you weren't even sure if you had ever been photographed before. 

Maybe just your mug shots. 

Still you couldn't stomach the thought of telling Mitsuki that you didn't know whether your parents died tragically or if they left you and your sister to die in the streets. 

After a moment Mitsuki presses her hand to your back, a brief rub before she presses into your shoulder blade, as if you remind you she was there. 

"Well, you always have family here dear." She smiles softly, your heart flutters. The Bakugous, even if it was supposed to be pretend, felt like family to you.

"Thank you." You smile back as Mitsuki allows you to flip the page. Your smile forms into a smirk as you see a smaller version of your hot headed boss standing next to a boy with curly emerald hair. 

"You and Izuku used to be good friends huh?" You tease, "What happened?" 

Bakugou doesn't react as you expect him too, he is not raging and cursing instead his face is calm, open. 

"Pride got in the way." His words somber, "But Deku's over it." 

A small silence falls over the room from Katsuki's honesty, Mitsuki glances at her husband who gives a small nod. Still you stare at the ash blonde who starts to crowd you, something odd sitting on his face. 

"Are you?" The question falls from your plush lips. Bakugou grits his teeth

"Turn the fucking page." And you do, the next picture his graduating glass and you are elated, excited to see your newfound friends in their youth. 

"Eijoru-kun! Gods look at his hair. It was so short then! Look at how close you guys are!" 

The next hour is shared over cake and memories. It feels good to be "family" if only for the night. 

"It is getting late Mitsuki dear." Masaru says softly, pulling a sigh from his wife. She stands and everyone follows. She gives hugs out by the door, squeezing you especially tight. 

"Oh Katsuki! The two of you should have Christmas dinner here, we are having fried chicken!" Mitsuki exclaims, immediately Bakugou shuts it down giving you a look as if you gave her the idea  

"No! We havta work." He shrugs his shoulders, holding out his jacket for you to slip into. Slowly you slip your arms in as you watch disappointment wash over Mitsuki's features. 

Don't say it, don't say it don't say it. 

You ignore the voice in your head and say it anyway. 

"Actually, Eijirou forced us off Christmas remember? Since we've worked so many in a row." Bakugou bristles, obviously agitated as he roughly places the jacket on your shoulders, resting his hot hands there. 

"Come on we didn't have any plans right?" 

A part of you does it for the money, another part of you does it out of loneliness.

He glares at you, squeezing you so hard you're sure it'd be bruised. 

"Fine." He bites out while Mitsuki grabs at his ear. 

"Don't act as if we are a chore!" She taps her bracelet, "Family first!" 

"Family first." He growls and you're learning this is what they say instead of 'I love you'. He tries to guide you out to the car but his mother grabs his sleeve. 

"It'll be just a moment dear." She smiles at you, Bakugou goes into his pants pockets for the keys for you but you are already dangling them with a devilish smirk. His eyes harden as you turn to give him your back. Hand smoothly removing the old All Might keychain to attach it to his keys. A part of you will wonder if he will notice. 

Meanwhile Mitsuki gives Bakugou a deadly look before an even deadlier hug. 

"I really like her." She pulls away allowing Bakugou to step outside, "Don't fuck this up." 

[madamewriterofwrongs]

Soft Eddie thought: the first time he mentions Buck in passing as 'my husband' and then all of a sudden it hits him for the first time that, holy shit, he has a *husband*! And either tears up a little or can't stop smiling.

Hey Nonny, I hope you see this, I know it’s been awhile. 

Subconsciously Drawn Together

911/Buddie

Eddie would never call what he feels a crush – after all, he’s a grown adult who hasn’t had a crush on anyone since Jenny Rodriguez broke his heart in eighth grade by picking Eugene as her lab partner instead of him. (Coincidentally, they are both married to someone named Makayla and neither of them lived outside of Texas for more than a few months).

He always thought that would be him. Not, married to Jenny or Eugene (or either Makayla for that matter), but there was a part of him that knew he was destined to live a quiet life. Marriage, children, maybe a dog and a white picket fence if they wanted to be really cliched. And he was okay with that – he really was. For Eddie, there was no other life than the one laid out for him.

Going to war didn’t change that. A poor country boy joining the military to provide for his pregnant wife back home? Even pulp fiction novelists thought it was too obvious. But, again, he never minded living an uninteresting life. Not everyone was destined for adventure and drama. Most people were made to get through the day.

Even when the nightmares came and he struggled to keep his family together, it just seemed like the next chapter in his boring novelization of a life. Everyone had marital troubles after coming home, everyone had bad dreams and phantom pains. Everyone worried where the money would come from to support their family. Everyone snuck into their son’s room to watch him sleep because they were afraid to admit that they’d forgotten what he looked like while he was away. Everyone felt guilt and shame and fear and regret. It was a part of life.

And then his wife left and his parents offered to take Christopher and for one moment, the thought crossed his mind. Could he let his son go (be with people who could stay at home and give him the care he needed)? Could he forget about Shannon and move somewhere else? Could he start over (relive his 20s in the carefree manner he’d seen others struggling to find)? Could he run away again and make it stick this time?

By the end of the week, he and Christopher were packed into his truck and headed to Los Angeles.

It didn’t feel like running away when he was mumbling his way through the Frozen soundtrack or listening to his son talk about his old school’s pet turtle that he’ll miss (and wonder what kind of pets the kids in Los Angeles got to have). It didn’t feel like running away then. It felt like they were running towards something.

Running towards a new life, of sorts, as it turned out. Sure, he still dealt with his parents’ criticism, and Shannon came back into their lives and for a moment, it felt like she’d never left him. But in LA, he had a purpose, he had freedom. For the first time in a long time, Eddie looked forward to opening his door in the mornings; for the first time in a long time, he never knew exactly what to expect, and LA was full of surprises.

The biggest surprise of all was named Evan Buckley.

Buck was a lot of things: a friend, a skilled firefighter, endearingly enthusiastic, subtle as a brick, and the first person outside of his real family that he called ‘family’ and truly meant it. He loved the men and women he served with in Afghanistan, but the moment they departed at the airport, he lost that connection. Joining the 118 had been a way to get that back and it had worked out fantastically. He had sports fanatics to cheer with, parents of blended families to vent with, people who knew his past and loved him despite it all.

Eddie never told anyone (except his therapist who never commented on it, but made a face that said they’d circle back to it at a later date), but he felt as though he’d known Buck for years. Once the man opened up to him, the trust he felt was strong, and the way he took an instant affection to Christopher made it easy to let this man into his life.

Within less than a year of joining the LA Fire Department however, his world imploded.

Or exploded, actually. First Shannon died, then Buck was injured, then his son was nearly taken by a natural disaster and he didn’t even know it. He spent so much time after that trying to put the pieces back together. For all the things he’d assumed his life would be – a wife and kid and a white picket fence – the only thing he had left was a son now dealing with immense trauma for such a young child to handle. And he had Buck (who was so bright and eager to please that one might describe him as a puppy at times). Nothing of his life had turned out the way it was meant to.

Suddenly, a year had passed since Shannon’s death and his life was still an unrecognizable sort of decagon shape instead of the standard cookie cutter circle. But none of that mattered because he was staring into bright brown eyes and a luminescent smile that was telling him that he was doing a wonderful job of raising Christopher on his own.

Others had been trying to tell him that for years (never the ones whose opinion meant to world to him, but he was learning to let that go) but that beautiful face was so sincere that he forgot himself. He forgot that he was a widow with a grieving son. He forgot the fear and regret that went along with the phantom pains when the weather turned cold. He forgot that he had failed in his ambition to live an entirely ordinary life. For a moment he thought: ‘when she smiles at me, I feel happy’.

He wanted to feel that way again.

There were several reasons that things just wouldn’t work out with Ana. For one: she was Christopher’s teacher, and even if it wasn’t against the rules, it still felt wrong. Two: he’d seen the moment she thought differently about him after he yelled at her at school. She was too professional and kind to say anything but even if it was possible, she was definitely no longer interested. The third reason was that he was a firefighter who worked insane hours and when he wasn’t at work, he was home with his son. There wasn’t exactly a lot of time for dating. Fourth: she wasn’t Buck.

That thought had been the one that kept him up at night. It had come to him while he stood in the shower, recounting his day, wondering how long he had until it would be time to pick up Christopher from school. He wasn’t feeling overly ambitious so he figured spaghetti and meatballs would be perfect for supper. He wondered what it would be like to cook for someone who wasn’t ten years old. Someone he could cook beside without having to keep a constant eye. There were times (in the early days with Shannon) where the two of them would cook together, do laundry, clean, do all the domestic things side by side. She had been insistent that they both learn to care for the house that they shared and he was happy to stand beside her in all things.

Remember to throw Buck’s gym clothes in the laundry next time he comes over. He keeps forgetting to throw them in his basket.

A simple little thought, really. He’d thought it before. His friend would leave his gym bag by the door for work and forget to empty it out when he went to do laundry. It was unlikely that anyone other than Eddie noticed the state of Buck’s clothes, but he’d been paying closer attention to him lately. Like how after the train derailment, his smile seemed easier; his shoulders relaxed more often – especially when he was with the 118 or Christopher. Buck seemed happy now that he’d gotten his closure from Abby.

He deserves to be happy. He makes me feel happy.

Buck did make him feel happy. The way he interacted with Christopher, the way he entrusted his son to this man without a second thought. But even when Christopher wasn’t around, Eddie enjoyed Buck’s company. Going to baseball games (dragging him, more like), sitting together when the crew went out for drinks after work. With Buck, he felt…

Safe.

Which wasn’t surprising, really. Buck was a kind man. Sweet and thoughtful. He put other’s first – just like Eddie does, he could hear Frank’s voice in his mind – and cared deeply about the people in his life. Not to mention, he was physically a very strong figure. In some other life, he and Buck met on the wrestling circuit but never fought. Him: with his MMA, and Buck: with his Greco-Roman Wrestling. With those broad shoulders and firm arms, he wouldn’t mind being pulled into a stronghold once or twice.

He knew Buck was conventionally attractive from the day they met. There was no hiding the sharp blue eyes or curly blond hair and rounded jaw.

Nothing like Ana.

Another correct statement that still seemed ominous in context. Why was he comparing Buck to Ana – or Shannon, for that matter? It wasn’t fair to compare friends to lovers. Although, Buck did fit into several categories on both sides.

Buck was a loyal friend, caring and trustworthy. He made Eddie and Christopher feel safe and loved. He wanted to do Buck’s laundry. He thought he was attractive. Slowly, one side of the column began to build in size.

Perhaps Buck was a bigger part of Eddie’s life than he realized. He hadn’t thought seriously about dating anyone until Ana and that never felt right but Buck…

Buck always felt right. Like he belonged with them. Like he’d known them all his life.

Could it be that Eddie wanted something other than friendship? Had he been climbing the wrong ladder all this time only to find himself at the top with no way across? After all: Buck had never given any indication that he was romantically interested in Eddie.

Though, to be fair, Eddie had given no indication either.

But that was because he’d just figured it out. Surely Buck had some idea that best friends didn’t act the way they did. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t interested, in any way, with Eddie. Could he forget it and go back to the way things were? Now that his fingers seemed to tingle with the new realization, could he take it back? Could he put those feelings in a box until someone else came along?

Would there be anyone else?

What did he want to happen with Buck?

Kissing him, for starters, might be interesting. Those plump, pink lips exploring his entire body. Having someone in his bed every night would be nice – and not just anyone, but someone who understood his work and the stressors of the day. If anyone was going to stand by his side while he freaked out about Christopher going on his first date, it should be Buck. Next to Eddie, that man was the most protective when it came to that little boy. He’d only seen it once or twice but Eddie knew that Buck looked good in a suit. Would he look even better in a tux? Years from now, when he retired from the LAFD, it would be nice to feel the weight of a ring on his finger, knowing he had someone he loved waiting at home.

Oh.

Oh damn.

Eddie’s shower ran a little bit longer than expected that day.

That simple thought had sent him on a spiral two weeks ago and every night that he struggled to fall asleep, he found himself rolling to the empty side of the bed, wondering what it would be like to wake up next to his best friend.

The conclusion he inevitably came to: it would be wonderful.

If the worlds aligned, of course. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about his sudden, escalating realization (not even Frank). There was no way to know if Buck reciprocated his feelings in any way. Though he knew with uncanny certainty that he would be safe to confess his feelings without fear of losing his relationship entirely, it still seemed safer to gather more information before making any sort of move.

I’m safe with Buck no matter what.

So, no. Eddie would not describe what he felt for Buck as a simple ‘crush’.

It was everything.

------------------------------

The accident scene was a mess. It always was. They so rarely rolled up on an event that was neatly organized – not that it would make him any less stressed or worried for the safety of his patients. It was his job to worry, to be surrounded by chaos. Perhaps that was his new normal now, and his idea of an ordinary life had shifted to one that involved heavier boots.

There was still a sense of satisfaction and ease, knowing that he got to go home to his son every night, that he was helping people, and there were people in his life who loved and supported him. Unlike his old army mates (as strong as those relationships were), he also knew that if he woke up and decided to be a baker instead of a firefighter, the 118 would still treat him as one of their own.

Perhaps ‘baker’ wasn’t the best example, baking had never been one of his favourite activities. A florist, or a construction worker, maybe. Firefighting meant a lot to him but it wasn’t his calling – the way it was for his… for Buck. How would the man react if one day, Eddie told him that they would no longer be partners in work? There was no doubt in his mind that Buck would still be over on Thursday nights with pizza and video games. And perhaps if Eddie was working more regular hours, he could go over to Buck’s on occasion and make dinner for the three of them. That would be a nice surprise. Buck would smile that impossibly bright smile and open his arms to Christopher, swinging the boy around gently because he was overly cautious about roughhousing with him – something that only made Eddie’s heart beat faster. Then, Buck would make his way over to Eddie and kiss him with a sort of reverence; like he can’t quite believe that Eddie’s real. He could rest assured that the feeling was mutual.

What a ridiculously outdated fantasy. He’d clearly grown up watching too much ‘I Love Lucy’.

The firefighter shook his head as he hopped out of the truck, turning his thoughts towards the work at hand.

That was something he’d always been good at: focus and calm under pressure. It was what had made becoming a firefighter so appealing. Sure, being a combat medic meant he was more than qualified for field rescues, but all that stoic strength he possessed was better used at work rather than at home. At home, he could be Christopher’s dad. At work, he was Firefighter Diaz.

There was no room for fantasies in Firefighter Diaz’s mind.

The chaos of the accident mostly consisted of cries of pain from passengers trapped in their vehicles as they tried in vain to free themselves before the qualified company could arrive. It wasn’t uncommon to come across a major pile up in the middle of the day, when Angelenos weren’t kept at a complete standstill, and impatient drivers were a staple of life in the LAFD.

Eddie took his orders from Bobby, clearing a path of bystanders for the heavy equipment, and assisting those who were stuck somewhere between freeing themselves and receiving a particularly crude hemicorporectomy. For all the noise, it was a relatively calm affair. Sure, some were screaming and crying – and one woman definitely threw a fit when told to climb out the passenger-side window of her shattered vehicle. But those in need of help received the assistance they required, and the worst injury they encountered was a broken rib and neck bruise from a young man who remained conscious throughout his entire extraction.

It was messy, it was chaotic, it was loud, but it was all right. There were still a few people with minor concussions and bloody wounds that could hopefully be tended to at the scene (most of them unwilling to take the ambulance ride if it wasn’t strictly necessary). He was admittedly a little hyper-focused today, his mind fighting the urge to wander away from its regular duties. Eddie chided himself for feeling so lovesick at work. He’d gone all this time loving Buck, he could handle a few more hours. It was that hyper focus which would be his undoing.

“All right, I think you’re going to be just fine. Head on over to my husband over there and he’ll get you some gauze for your arm.”

An innocent enough sentence – one that didn’t register in his mind through the haze of moving from one patient to the next – but one that only fed into that dangerous fantasy of his.

“What did you call Buck?”

And one that Chimney had apparently heard loud and clear.

Eddie blinked, as he kept his eyes trained on the man before him (some poor bystander who’d bumped his head when he’d stumbled backwards to avoid the oncoming collisions), determined to remain professional in the face of his own idiocy.

Clicking his penlight on with a little too much enthusiasm, he shook the device over his patient’s face. “Can you look up, sir?” Eddie felt his coworker’s eyes trained on him but he kept his focus on his work. As he continued his examination, Chimney crept closer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and amusement but still, the ex-soldier remained stoic as ever. Some part of Eddie knew that ignoring his friend now would only lead to a confrontation later but right now, he had work to do. And dividing his attention between his duty and his teasing friends was not how he wanted to spend his afternoon. So, he stayed focused. After a few moments, he saw Chimney shake his head and move away, letting Eddie take a much-needed breath of relief.

He was safe from his own stupid brain. For now.

Eddie knew it was coming when Chimney let him be during the rest of their scene cleanup. It was inevitable; but knowing and experiencing were two entirely separate matters.

“So.” Chimney wore what could only be described as a ‘shit-eating grin’ as he began his sentence, pulling all eyes in the back of the truck to him. “Is there something that Buck and Eddie would like to tell us?”

Buck, innocent as ever, turned to Eddie for guidance. “No…?” Eddie could only stare out the window, sorely tempted to remove his headphones if only to prolong the inevitable conversation. Was he blushing or was his face simply burning from the inside out?

“Are you sure?” The man was unrelenting, his voice growing higher with his escalating amusement. As if giving them a chance to confess would be easier than Chimney spilling the truth.

Not that there was any truth to confess. There was just one, very, very, idiotic man who got one simple crush and couldn’t keep it in his pants.

“Chim, what’s going on?”

There were two options Eddie faced in this moment where his head filled with warning sirens (not dissimilar to the ones that normally filled the truck). He could come clean and confess his sins to the team, facing the consequences with what meager amount of dignity he had left. Or, he could lie and pretend Chimney had misheard him, and they could all go about their day. That seemed the safer option. Of course, he hated lying to his team – to his friends – but what was the alternative?

“I called Buck my husband at the scene.”

Apparently, the alternative was exclaiming his idiocy in front of his teammates and denying the flash of a smile on his partner’s face. It was a simple upturn twitch of his lip, hardly noticeable, but the only opinion that mattered to Eddie as he gave his confession was from the man sitting across from him – and he was decidedly attuned to Buck’s ever-changing expressions. On a normal day, he enjoyed the way their knees bumped as the truck bounced through the streets of Los Angeles; it was just another reminder of how connected they were. Now, it made the space between them feel too close – yet still not close enough.

Buck’s face, upon hearing the news that Eddie had tied them together in the mind of some random stranger, flickered once before falling to something neutral and curious (almost amused). As if he was studying something.

“Oh, I don’t mind.” His partner shrugged and Eddie’s heart stopped. “Were they hitting on you?”

Again, Eddie appeared at a crossroads. “No.” And chose the more embarrassingly honest answer.

“Were they hitting on me?”

“No.” So many forks in his path but he continued to veer in one direction, as Buck furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Then why did you”

“I don’t know.” Eddie tried to sound casual as he grumblingly cut him off before he could continue his innocent interrogation. Through the headset, he could hear Chimney snort in disbelief but his eyes remained solely locked on his partner.

He knew why Chimney might scoff at his dismissal – those type of slipups didn’t ‘just happen’, after all – but it was as close to the truth as he could muster. He didn’t know why he’d said what he said. His mind was still frazzled from long hours contemplating what he wanted and what he felt.

Apparently, his subconscious had taken over and now he had his answer.

An answer which was decidedly too large to attempt to unpack while he was still on duty.

He wanted Buck to be his husband. He was ready to get married again – and to his best friend, no less. All wonderful information to process at another time.

The rest of the trip back to the station was filled with noise: the roar of the engine, the shout of the horn when someone inevitably cut them off, the clank of metal against metal. Eddie’s head was silent. He stared out the window at the passing world, feeling the eyes of his partner drilling into his cheek for a time, and then return to his phone. No one spoke, but the absence of voice was deafening. Teasing or pestering would have been better than the juxtaposing silence that told him everyone knew what he’d meant.

Buck had given him every out for his little mistake and, instead, Eddie had barreled straight into his own demise. There was no other explanation as to why he’d said what he said: he’d meant it. Or wanted to mean it, rather. Sure, his dirty little secret had been outed, but Buck had yet to make a comment one way or the other.

I don’t mind.

One friend helping out another: that was what it meant to Buck. And he loved that. But there was no mistaking now what Eddie felt in his heart.

He wanted it to mean something else.

Climbing out of the truck at the end of their journey was harder than usual. The silent stares wouldn’t stop because they were back at the station, it would only be worsened by the fact that there was nothing else to focus on. Eddie never prayed for a call – and he still wouldn’t now – but if there was any mercy in the world, he could avoid all of his friends and co-workers for the rest of their shift.

Simple enough.

“Hey.” Eddie cursed at the familiar voice following him towards the cubbies. Naturally, they were alone, naturally, there was no real excuse to leave – and apparently, he’d decided to suppress his ability to tell white lies for the sake of his pride today – naturally, his heart pounded behind his eyelids as Buck stopped jogging in front of him.

“I just want to say…” and here came the inevitable turndown Eddie dreaded and secretly hoped would never come. “It’s okay, I get it.” Buck’s smile was small but sincere. That man couldn’t be anything less than sincere.

It’s one of the reasons why I lo-

“It was just a slip of the tongue,” Eddie cut off his own thoughts before they betrayed him the way his subconscious had. He needed at least some of his faculties to survive the day. “Don’t worry about it.”

He stepped to the side, intending to escape his own personal hell – was it always this hot in the station? Did they always stand so close to one another? How had he never realized his feelings before now? – but Buck blocked his path.

“No, really, it’s fine.” Was Buck blushing now? “I kind of think of you as my work-husband, too.”

Another perfect opportunity for an out. He could flounder excuses about being tired and meaning it in a work-related setting the way Buck implied.

“Right.” His words sounded weak to his own ears. Who knew what they sounded like to Buck, as the man finally let him pass. Freedom secured, Eddie quickened his pace so as to escape the curious eyes of his fellow crewmates as quickly as possible.

Or at least, that was the plan, until Buck called out: “But you know, I’m free tonight if you wanted to talk about it.”

It felt as though the world stopped spinning – but the distant sound of clanking cutlery from the loft reminded him that it had not. His stomach dropped into his shoes, and his skin burst into flames from the buzzing in his ears. Eddie pivoted on his heel slowly to face his partner, uncertain he’d even heard the words he’d said. But there was Buck, blushing as brightly as he felt, but smiling a much more lopsided grin.

“Talk about what?” He cautiously asked.

Buck moved first, filling the minimal space Eddie had put between them with his broad chest and bright, eager eyes. He smelled of smoke and pine (despite interacting with neither today) and a thin sheen of sweat made him appear more disheveled than perhaps he was. Had he always been so intoxicating? What were they talking about?

“About being husbands… outside of work.”

“What?” Now Eddie was certain that he’d misheard his friend.

Buck simply smirked in response to his question, eyes moving slowly over Eddie’s face. He was always examining, questioning, confident. He had been doomed from the start.

“Christopher’s in bed at eight, right?”

“We’re pushing it to eight-thirty.” His mouth moved on autopilot, too stunned to comprehend the sudden shift in subject.

Again, Buck’s blue eyes circled his face slowly, absorbing all Eddie’s focus as he felt himself physically affected from the mere sight of his partner with his knowing grin and wandering eye. So entranced was he, that he didn’t notice how closely the other man had leaned into his space until he felt his hot breath against his skin. Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat.

He was absolutely doomed.

When Buck spoke, his tongue danced along his teeth, an enticing show of some unfulfilled fantasy that had never occurred to Eddie in the first place.

“Then I’ll be there at eight-thirty-one.”

Buck’s flirtatious demeanor melted into a giddy smile that snapped through the tension he’d pulled between them. “I was a little- a lot worried you didn’t feel the same.” He confessed, still filling Eddie’s space with his infectious energy. One word from him, and Eddie melted.

“You…were…” No more words filled his mind beyond a string of victorious swears and the sound of panicked cheering, but Buck seemed to understand him nonetheless. Buck had always understood him.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with using the truck to keep his legs underneath him, he would have turned to see Buck walk away, pumping his fist in excitement. As it was, several crewmembers looked on from the balcony, shaking their heads at the pair of idiots acting like lovesick teenagers over a single date.

Chimney shooed them all away before taking the opportunity to shout: “Buck, tell your husband that lunch is ready.” Which earned him more than a few chuckles from the firefighters upstairs, and two overexaggerated groans from the men below.

They were definitely not going to be living this down for a while.

For once, Eddie didn’t mind – and if the grin plastered on Buck’s face for the rest of the shift was any indication, neither did he.

[slutsofren]

Danger Days Chapter 5: Skylines and Turnstiles

summary:  arriving at the University of Eastern Colorado, things start pointing to an unwanted direction

warnings: little allusions to anxiety and awkardness, everybody is finally getting along (kinda), mild sexual tension,  reader is fucking horny

word count: 3,116

read on ao3 here / danger days masterlist

You had been zoning out for about the last hour, only starting to pay attention as you saw the familiar red brick walls of the university. Joel had been droning on and on and on about football and the rules of the game, teaching it to Ellie and she lapped it all up excitedly. If there was one thing you had grown to love about the girl, it was her passion for knowledge, especially of the old world.

As they talked, you recalled your adventures the past month, thanking the stars it was a rather smooth journey to get here. The three of you only encountered one group of hunters that weren’t much trouble and they were rather well stocked on supplies and food, keeping you all fed for a few days longer.

The two horses were doing well too, the long trek didn’t seem to bother them as much as you originally worried. Made the journey much smoother and shorter than you accounted for. When you all left Jackson, it was only October, now it was maybe halfway through November. You were making pretty good time on your schedule. 

“I don’t see a glass building,” Ellie told you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“We’ll need to get to the center courtyard of the campus. You’ll see it from there, it’ll look like a mirror made of glass.” You raised a hand and pointed through some buildings, vaguely gesturing the way.

You led them into an area of the campus that led to the science center. But Joel stopped you and dismounted, giving Ellie the reins, “Stay, Callus.” After a couple feet of walking away Joel asked her, “What kind of a name is Callus, anyways?”

He goes around, searching the area for either troubles or supplies, grumbling about the name Ellie gave the horse.

“Not my fault you forgot to ask Tommy his name,” Ellie jokes and jerks her thumb at you, “Or that she didn’t know it either.”

“Hey, don’t bring me into this, kiddo. I’m just buddies with my dear Whiskey here,” you pat the neck of the black horse. He gave a little huff beneath your fingers and shook his head, enjoying the attention. “Besides, Cherry is the only one able to tell the difference between all of them.”

Joel gives you a faint smile as he reaches for the bit on Callus, guiding him through a gate into the middle of the campus that you waited by.

After being in such close proximity to each other, the two of you began warming up to the other. Of course, you still chucked snide comments at him, often calling him an old bastard when he’d piss you off or do something snide. He would reply in kind, calling you a brat and threatening you to behave.

Needless to say, that awakened a little fantasy you totally didn’t need of the man, eliciting some rather vivid dreams when you slept. Hinting that maybe you were unfortunately in need of a good orgasm to get it all out of your system once and for all. Being out in the middle of fuck-all nowhere made that kind of difficult.The mental imagery alone kept you up most nights on your watch while you kept an eye out as the two rested. Regardless, Joel had been a gentleman towards you, apparently all that southern charm was genuine but he was still a broody asshole most days, never once hinting he saw you in such a way despite how often you’d catch him staring.

Ellie on the other hand, took to you rather quickly. She would ask you question after question about California, FEDRA, what to expect with the Fireflies at the lab, what you were like before the outbreak. She was intrigued about life pre-cordyceps virus, it was as if it was a fantasy to her.

Well, you admit, you supposed it was. She was born after the virus took hold, she never got to experience the things you and Joel did in the world before.To go to a zoo, a concert, gossip with friends about who likes who in school. The only thing she knew was to keep fighting, surviving, and running. Despite how cheerful and passionate she could be about her comic books or absorbing as much knowledge as she could, you were saddened that she never got the chance to be normal.

As much as you tried to keep some things private during her lengthy questionings, you knew her curiosity was blinding. She meant no harm, likely going to you for these questions seeing as Joel was completely shut off from his past, not that you blame him. You couldn’t imagine what he experienced from what Tommy had told you before.

Ellie looked around on the horse, “So, these places… people would live here and just study? Even though they were all grown up?”

“Yeah, study, party, and find themselves. Figure out what they wanted to do with their lives,” Joel replied. He let go of the leather strap and motioned for you and Ellie to stay where you were as he walked towards what looked to be like a loading dock and began searching.

She repeated Joel’s last sentence about finding themselves, possibly turning over the idea in her mind, after a few moments of silence of both of you watching Joel she turned to you, “Did you ever go to college?”

You shook your head, silently telling her no. “I was too young when shit hit the fan, but I would explore these buildings and take the books that were salvageable. Read them when I had the time. Tried to educate myself however I could.”

“What would you have studied if you went?”

“I don’t know,” you think. Suddenly you remembered some of your favorite books that you had stolen from these very buildings. “I really liked reading the history books that I found here. Maybe I would have done something with that. Or maybe,” you ponder, “maybe I wouldn’t have liked history if not for the whole world fucking ending.”

Ellie considers this for a moment. Then, from the corner of your eye, you watch Joel disappear behind a corner and you turn towards her, “What about you?”

Ellie scrunches her face in thought. “Art. Or maybe music. I like being creative.”

You smiled at the idea, “Ellie Williams: Comedian, Artist, Rock Star.”

Ellie smiles widely and the moment is cut short by Joel announcing somewhere above you. “There was a look-out here,” his voice calls down.

Both of you look up and see Joel leaning over a concrete railing on the second floor. “That’s a good sign,” Ellie says to him, then she looks at you and asks quietly, “Right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. You furrow your brows and begin to bite on your bottom lip, unsure of what to make of things. It’s unlike them to leave a look-out abandoned. Now that you’re thinking about it, you’re pretty damn positive you’d have come across somebody by now.

You try to get your facial expressions back in check, not wanting to worry Ellie or even Joel by making them feel like something is vastly wrong with how this looks. Before, when you were with the militia group, there were armed guards practically on every roof of this campus. They were always checking in with each other, making sure none of the infected or even hunters penetrated the walls. It wasn’t always secure or even practical, more lives were lost that way but it helped protect the lab.

You’re pulled away from your anxious thoughts as you spot Joel. He takes one last look around then comes down from the loading dock and gets back on the horse he’s sharing with Ellie and looks to you, gesturing his hand out in front of him. “Lead the way.”

You give Whiskey a little kick and he takes off, jumping over a concrete barricade then leading them up some stairs and under some ornate arches and pulling the reins to the left. With a motion of your hand you point to the science building in the distance, “There it is. The one with glass walls.”

Ellie looks over his shoulder and huffs a surprise, “It really does look like a glass mirror.”

Unfortunately there was a locked gate between the group and your destination. “Question is, how are we gonna get through here,” Joel thinks out loud.

After looking around it seems the only way forward is through the crumbling buildings. Joel dismounts from Callus once again and led you both through a broken wall on the left that led to the inside of the old library.

“How many people you think are there? Fireflies, I mean,” Ellie wondered.

“Reckon it takes quite a crew to run that operation,” Joel looks at you.

You nodded at both of them idly, “Yeah, when I was here we had at least a few dozen, maybe more. I kind of kept to myself.” 

“You think there’ll be other people my age,” she asked, not letting her eyes look up towards you.

“I do.”

The three of you approached another locked gate inside the building, essentially cutting off both the library and the rest of the hall you were in from each other. Joel pulled on the handle and it creaked open, Callus and Whiskey both shuffled and whined, making you and Ellie shift on them.

“Woah, woah, woah, what is it boys,” Joel tried to calm down the horses.

Your attention got pulled away when you heard a shriek and Ellie said, “Sounds like runners.”

Joel looked back behind him then forward at you, “Stay together. I’ll go check it out.”

“Joel, no wait,” you try to argue as you dismount but he closes the gate behind him.

“Stay with her,” he tells you. “I don’t want the horses or her runnin’ off again.”

You give him a hard look that he mirrors, neither one of you wants to budge but the look in his brown eyes make you waver, finally caving into his demand. “Stay alive, you stubborn old bastard.”

His lips twitch, hints of a tense smile wishing to creep on his face. He puts his hands up on a calm gesture as he removes his backpack, removing the shotgun from it and pocketing a couple extra rounds as he stands back up. “I’ll be right back,” he says your name softly, his voice deep and rich, “I promise.”

As he walks away, you inhale a deep breath and your heart is beating. You’ve come to hate it when this happens, not that it did much. Whenever the three of you found yourselves in a tight situation with the infected, you each carried on with taking them down. You hated this, hated that he felt the need to do this on his own.

It fuckin’ sucked waiting.

Just as you were working yourself up more, you heard five consecutive shotgun blasts. Then silence. Ellie must have noticed your worry because she announced loud enough for Joel to hear, “Hey, I was thinking… I would’ve wanted to be an astronaut.”

“That a fact,” his voice rang out in the distance, echoing off the library walls.

“Yeah, can you imagine being up there all by yourself? Would’ve been cool. I’m just sayin’.”

You opened up the gate, leading Whiskey inside the library, still simmering with whatever the hell you were feeling. Ellie trotted her horse past you to another gate, this one opening with a panel and leading back outside to the courtyard on the right.

Faintly you could hear presumably Joel starting up a generator three times and then panel next to the gate lit up. You pressed the button, opening it up then went back to Whiskey, jumping up into his saddle.

Joel came back down the steps and grabbed the reins to Callus and his eyes fell on you, “Told you I’d be right back.”

“What about you? What’d you want to be,” Ellie asked him.

Joel looked away, focusing on something in the distance as you all walked out the opened gate. He scratched at his beard and admitted, “Oh… well, when I was a kid I used to want to be a… a singer.”

You raised your eyebrows and gave a small laugh, Ellie did too. “Shut up,” she said jokingly.

“I’m serious.”

“Sing something”

“Ah, no.”

“Come on, I won’t laugh,” she begged.

“I don’t think so.”

You watched as they both bickered over this, Ellie even tried to pull you into the conversation, saying your name, “Come on, tell him we won’t laugh!”

“Maybe he can treat us after a successful creation of the cure,” you compromise. Joel turns to you and ponders.

“We’ll see.”

The three of you make your way down the steps, then turning to the left, continuing your trek to the science center. Ellie gets Joel's attention, “She said she wasn’t sure what she would have done.”

“Is that so?”

You shift your weight on Whiskey, “Yeah. I mean, I like history now but back then? I didn’t really have a plan after graduating high school. I didn’t really click with anything, y’know?”

He absorbs that information and ponders. “Yeah, I get it.”

The silence took over and whatever anxiety you had was lessening yet amplifying the closer you got to the building, still wary of the fact you hadn’t seen any sign of the Fireflies aside from the abandoned look-out. Joel got back up on Callus as you approached the center of the school and together with Whiskey, jumped over another barricade.

The view in front of you was a much larger campus courtyard, with a giant fountain in the center decorated with a statue in the middle of it. Ellie was the first to notice a small group of bright orange monkeys and cooed at them as they chattered and swung around the clearing.

“That was kinda awesome,” she said as they swung away into a nearby building.

You smiled at her reaction and asked, “First time seeing a monkey?”

She nodded and repeated, “First time seeing a monkey!”

Atop the two horses, you all keep looking around searching for a sign of life but finding nothing. Leading you all down another outside corridor. Joel offers, “Maybe these guys like to keep a low profile.”

Ellie, now sounding less energetic, half-heartedly agrees.You bank right, vaguely remembering where to go when she points to a wall to the left. “Hey, look. Fireflies.” When you turned to look, you noticed the old wall tag.

“Yeah, it was to help point the way to the building we were in, in case new recruits got lost or something like that,” you tell her.

You pull into another corridor that is also blocked with a gate. To the right of the wall is a painted sign, saying ‘disconnect generator when not on duty’ in bold white letters.

Together, each of you gets off Whiskey and Callus and attempts to lift the gate to find it won’t work. The damned thing wouldn’t budge. Joel grumbles, “Probably have to find the generator.” He walks to a barricaded doorway to the right and peers around it then kneels. “It’s gotta be through here.”

“Joel, you are not going by yourself again,” you tell him.

He looks over his shoulder at you and cocks an eyebrow at you. The two of you, once again, locked in this damned game. He sizes you up with an intense stare and he already knows he’s won. You groan loudly, “If you die in there, just remember I told you so, old man.”

“Watch Ellie, you damned brat.”

He turns and crawls under the barricade, giving you a bit of a nice show of his ass before entirely disappearing. You roll your eyes to yourself as you turn back around, standing near Ellie and the two horses.

“So,” she starts.

“So?”

“What’s going on between you and Joel?”

It was so unbelievably hard to keep your face in check, to keep your internal screaming from etching your facial expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Ellie.”

“You both look like you want to fucking kill the other in their sleep.”

“That’s because I do.” Amongst other things.

You cross your arms in front of you, mindlessly showing your defensiveness on the topic and definitely not trying to tell the obviously fourteen-year-old who has never had the sex talk about how your body is screaming with alarms to get dicked down by the first person you see. Mentally scolding yourself for your predicament. How dare he.

“That’s just Joel,” she says. “He’s always like that.”

“He needs to learn how to work as a team or else we’re all going to end up dead, or worse.”

Gunshots cut the conversation short, the two of you ducking close to the ground, both pulling out weapons. It was difficult to tell where the shots came from because the two of you were still in a tunnel but you whisper-shouted, “Joel!”

Nothing but eerie silence responded to your call, settling in your bones. It took everything you had in you to not bolt and look for the man but both you and Ellie looking around for any sign of him. “Son of a bitch, this is exactly what I was talking about,” you groan frustrated.

Seconds ticked by that dragged into forever-long minutes. You weren’t a nervous person on missions, always trying to stay hyper-focused but truthfully, you don’t know how you’d handle the return journey with just Ellie.

Before you could work the nerve to go search through the maze of dorms, Ellie notices him before you, “Joel! Are you okay? What happened in there?”

“More infected, I’m fine,” he shouts, exiting a door from the far left, as he runs over to where you and Ellie were standing still, waiting for him.

“Here - come open the gate!”

As Joel pulls the generator to the wall to plug it in, Ellie tells him, “Holy shit you’re lucky you came out of there alive. She almost ran in after you.”

Suddenly you felt like you couldn’t breath under your coat as you gave Joel a sheepish look. “I didn’t want to have to explain to Tommy that I got his brother killed, alright? Don’t let it get to your big head, cowboy.”

Joel raised a brow at you then grunted, resuming to kickstart the generator to power the gate. It came alive kind of loudly but you resigned, only to mount your horse again choosing to ignore whatever Joel or Ellie could be thinking.

[bothcreativitybois]

The Mayor’s Sweet Treat Chapter 3

Wordcount: 2955

Ship: Intruality

TWs: Food, horses, dogs, skipping meals, a little bit of past angst, sexual references, swearing 

Taglist: @star-crossed-shipper @crazydemigod666 @idont-freaking-know @someoneiwasnt @seraphiie @the-sympathetic-villain @cute-and-angsty-princess @lonelymuffin 

Remus flung out of the truck and smashed on the bakery door. 

“Wakey wakey!” Remus shouted at the doors. Above him a window opened. Patton smiled down radiantly. The cold night breeze rustled his hair dreamily while Remus’ long locks thrash slightly.

Remus you dumbass! He isn’t used to this!

“You’re an impatient one, Mr Grinch.” Patton joked.

“Actually it’s Mr Manzana.” Remus shouted back. “Are you coming down or not?” Patton giggled and closed the window. A few seconds later he appeared beside the building.

“So where are we going?” Patton asked as Remus walked up to him. Remus laughed.

“The best place in town, which is conveniently also the only place.” Remus joked. Patton followed him down the street to a little restaurant with a yellow sign. Remus opened the door for Patton as they entered the small restaurant. There were a handful of tables set up with only one in use. Remus walked over to greet the small family at the table. Patton followed awkwardly.

“Remus!” A gruff father looking figure shouted and pat Remus on the back. “Good ta see ya.” Also at the table were two small children and an elderly lady.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” The elderly lady chimed in. Remus smiled widely while Patton just sort of shrank behind him.

“Staying out of trouble as much as possible.” Remus chuckled, both the adults laughed.

“Which for you isn’t possible.” The man laughed heartily. Remus smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Clyde, let me introduce you to Patton.” Remus held a hand out as to present Patton. The man looked at him happily.

“Great to meet ya.” Clyde stood up and enveloped Patton’s hand in a strong handshake.

“You too.” Patton said meekly. The large man laughed.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” Clyde joked. “Remus however…” He elbowed Remus who pulled a fake innocent face.

“These darling angels are Taylor and June.” Remus ruffled the hair of the two children who both tried to push his hand away. “And this is Ms Cath. She taught me when I was the kids' sizes.” The elderly lady stood up and hugged Patton. The hug was soothing, it reminded him of his mother. He thought about how long it’s been since he was hugged… a couple months?

“Welcome to our little town, honey.” Ms Cath soothed. “Well let you two get back to it. But if you ever need anything then just stop by the school and see me.” The old lady winked. Remus put a hand on Patton’s back and after a few more words with the family guided Patton to their own table. Patton looked around the restaurant. Not in a nervous way, just the way you do when you enter a new place. The people he’d just met were chatting happily and enjoying their food.  Remus snapped his fingers to get Patton’s attention.

“Hey so the waiter is a friend of mine and he has some unique features. Don’t to stare, it upsets him.” Remus whispered. Patton nodded politely just as the waiter in question showed up.

“So this is the baker I heard about?” The waiter said. Patton looked up to see a little name tag reading ‘Janus’. The man had a large black birthmark and a lazy eye. He figured that’s what Remus meant. 

“I like your hair.” Patton smiled. Janus touched the small bun his dreads were pulled back in. His face was surprised.

“Thanks.” He turned to Remus. “You getting what you always get?” Remus laughed.

“Don’t fix what ain’t broke.” Remus confirmed with a wide smile. “And an extra for my friend here.” Janus nodded and scribbled something down on his notepad.

“Great. I’ll be off work at midnight so if you plan on taking ‘your friend’ home then please be done by then.” Janus said calmly and walked away. Patton blushed but Remus simply laughed. He looked down at Patton, he realised how uncomfortable he looked.

He reached across the table and grabbed Patton’s hand. He noticed a small tattoo on Patton’s wrist he hadn’t seen before, a little frog.

“Sorry, I kinda threw you in the deep end there.” Remus apologised. “Janus was just joking around, he’s really nice albeit a little dry and blunt.” Remus attempted to reassure Patton, it seemed to work as he released the tension in his shoulders a bit and nodded. Remus pulled his hand away.

“Everyone here seems really nice.” Patton said. Remus smiled and looked around. 

“It’s that small town spirit.” Remus replied. “When everyone knows everyone no one is really mean… well except for some of the older families who have weird rivalries but that’s a story for another day.” Remus was so calm, it was weird. Usually he was bouncing off the walls by now but something about Patton was keeping him on the ground.

“Tell me about growing up here?” Patton asked. Remus took a deep breath. There were thousands of stories racing around his head and he needed to find a way to summarise them all.

“It’s chaotic but somehow also predictable.” He eventually answered. “From the outside it’s like a horse rolling around on it’s back. It looks ridiculous but it knows exactly what it’s doing.” Patton was amused by the analogy. He understood that Remus was a country kid but now he was just being cliché. Not to mention Patton knew next to nothing about horses.

“And what does it mean when a horse rolls around?” Patton asked, genuinely curious about the silly behaviour of horses. Remus’ face lit up.

“Most the time it means they got colic and are trying to dislodge whatever got stuck. But if it’s a younger philly they could just be having fun. Colic isn’t serious though, usually it’s solved just by leading it for a walk or a shot of penicillin.” Remus explained. Patton watched how Remus’ eyes sparkled as he talked, he seemed a lot more in his element. “Colic is what keeps the vets round here in business. Pretty much everyone has a horse and the farms all have at least three. I got one still livin’ at my parents place, I’ve been meaning to move her to mine but she’s scared to death of trailers and I don’t have the ti-” Remus was cut off by a groan from Janus who had appeared with two plates.

“Kraken is fine on the farm, they have good use for her.” Janus began. “If we brought her to our place she’d be stuck in a paddock all day and only get ridden every week or so.” Janus placed down the plates with two tall burgers. “Two lamb burgers, one with extra pickle and barbeque sauce.” Janus pulled a face as he announced the last part.

“Thanks.” Patton smiled happily. Janus nodded and walked away. Patton looked over at Remus who was taking pickles off his burger and putting them on a napkin. “Why did you order extra pickles if you aren’t eating them?” Patton was confused. Remus looked up and smiled devilishly. He liked pickles, but always ordered extra for something special.

“You’ll see.” Remus winked as he wrapped up the pickles and put them in his pocket. 

The two men didn’t talk much as they ate. Remus was used to being the kind to devour food quickly while everyone else told him to slow down, so he was surprised when he saw Patton finished his burger first. Patton was just happy to be eating real food again.

“You finished that fast.” Remus said as he took the last bite of his burger. Patton looked up and blushed. Truthfully it was the first thing he’d eaten today, he had skipped breakfast and was too stressed to eat while working. Patton laughed awkwardly. Remus reeled, he meant it as a compliment but was worried Patton didn’t take it that way. “I mean that in a good way, pancake. It’s hard to find people who can keep up with me.” Remus quickly added. Patton giggled. Remus stood to leave but Patton stopped him.

“Wait! We need to pay.” Patton fretted. Remus looked over Patton and winked at Janus, he sighed and waved them away. Patton watched the weird exchange and didn’t notice Remus grab his hand to pull him out of the restaurant. He was tugged out so fast he nearly fell down but he couldn’t help but laugh. Remus pulled him down the dark street as they both cackled.

“Where are we going?” Patton asked through the laughs. Remus looked back and flashed a brilliantly evil smile.

“You wanted a tour, didn’t you?” Remus said as he halted to a stop. Patton nearly ran right into him if it wasn’t for Remus’ outstretched arm. “Here is where we start!” Remus pointed to the building in front of them. A brick building with a clock above the door.

“Mindville Council Hall?” Patton read from the sign next to him. Remus shook his head and shook his pointed hand. Patton followed the line of sight to, “The… clock?” Remus nodded excitedly so fast he looked like he might burst. He reached into his pocket and took out the napkin from the restaurant.

“The clock hasn’t worked in years.” Remus said as he took a pickle from the napkin, he handed the rest to Patton. “This is a way better use for it anyway.” With that Remus hucked the pickle slice into the air towards the clock, it hit the glass cover with a barely audible splat. Remus would come here as a kid and throw all sorts of things, but he found out quickly that pickles were not only the most accessible but also stuck the best. Remus celebrated with a loud cheer and took the pickles from Patton. “Give it a try.” Patton gently took a pickle and looked up at the clock. It was at least ten meters up.

“I’m not sure I can get it…” Patton conceded. Remus took a pickle slice and laughed.

“Who cares?” Remus shouted as he threw another pickle, this one hitting above the first. Patton took a deep breath and pulled back his hand. He closed his hand and threw the pickle as hard as he could. He looked up in time to see it land just short of the clock. He blushed in embarrassment but to his surprise Remus hollered.

“Whooo!” Remus cheered. His whoops were brash and loud, like when the electric mixer hit the edge of the metal bowl. “That’s a great shot!” Patton smiled at the enthusiasm and grabbed another slice. Remus did too and they both threw them together. Remus hit the 4 while Patton’s was just shy of the clock again. Suddenly the lights of the building turned on around them. “On to the next place!” Remus threw the napkin with the rest of the slices and began bolting down the road, Patton stood shocked for a second then followed.

“Aren’t you the mayor?” Patton huffed as they ran. Remus was surprisingly fast and he had trouble keeping up.

“Yes, and?” Remus said, barely breaking a sweat. When they were far enough away Remus slowed down and started pointing out the shops they walked past. “That is the butcher, if you ask nicely they’ll give you bones that aren’t big enough to sell as dog bones. That’s Salamanders Silk, one of the 7 places I’ve gotten a cut that needs stitching which is ironic given it’s a clothes store.” Something told Patton this tour wouldn’t be overly informative of the actual places. “And this is the bakery that makes amazing muffins.” Remus stopped. Patton realised they were in front of his shop. He looked up at the bare walls of the building, it looked abandoned. Every shop in town had nice signs and lovely paint but his just looked sad. 

“How about I give you a tour?” Patton chimed in happily. Remus looked down and nodded excitedly. Patton walked up and unlocked the door. “Welcome to Froggy and Doggy Bakery.” Patton sang happily.

“Finally, I get a name.” Remus joked. Patton sighed and looked up at the empty space where a sign should hang.

“Yeah I need to get on to the sign company again.” He said sadly. Remus took a mental note of Patton’s qualms.

“How’d you get the name? Is doggy your favourite position or something?” Remus asked as he walked in. Patton locked the door behind them and flipped on the lights.

“Actually it’s based on a story my mother told me as a kid.” Patton started. Remus regretted his previous statement. “There was a princess who had two suitors, a prince and a farmer. She asked each to bring her an animal as a gift. The prince brought her a well bred dog with beautiful hair. The farmer brought her a small green frog. She took each pet and announced she would be marrying the farmer. The prince got mad and demanded her to answer why. She said that anyone can go out and buy a dog, but the farmer had spent time catching the frog and cleaning it to present to her. Even though his gift wasn’t the most pretty or conventional, it had the most effort and thought put in it.” Patton smiled as he told the story, Remus was entrapped by his words. He clearly had fond memories of that story and it was reflected in how happily he told it.

“I think that’s my new favourite fairy tale.” Remus said when Patton finished talking. “Is that why you have that tattoo as well?” Remus gestured to Patton’s wrist. He nodded.

“My ex was a tattoo artist and he did it as a birthday gift.” Patton said as he rubbed a thumb over the small frog drawn on his wrist. It took him a moment to realise he had just come out to a man he’d met only earlier today. He looked up expecting some sort of reaction from Remus, but he didn’t care. Remus was just looking around the bakery, closely inspecting a sign on one of the walls. Patton found it refreshing to have someone not have a big reaction.

“Art gallery? What’s this for?” Remus asked. The wall had no art on it, just a few small shelves. Patton walked over to join him.

“Oh my mother had the idea that artists could put up any art they had to sell here for a small fee. That way we could generate more business while helping people.” Patton informed. “That reminds me, is there a homeless shelter I could donate any unsold items to?” Remus was surprised. Patton had never been here and already wanted to help the people. It was admirable.

“Well there aren’t any homeless shelters here because there isn’t a need for them, but there is one in the city as you probably know. It’s an hour drive but they’d probably be very happy with a donation even once a week.” Remus explained. Patton looked back blankly.

“Why would I know that?” Patton asked.

“You lived there before you moved here, didn’t you?” Remus thought it was obvious. The only people who knew about this town were the people living in it and some of the people in surrounding areas.

“No. I lived on the coast.” Patton said. 

That’s in the very least 3 hours away. Remus thought.

“Why’d you move here then?” Remus asked plainly, not knowing that for Patton it was a loaded question. Patton crossed his arms and looked down. Remus noticed. “Oh- uh- you don’t have to answer.” He stammered quickly trying to comfort Patton. He was curious but didn’t want to make Patton uncomfortable.

“Thanks.” Patton whispered. It hurt to think back to the time before he moved. It hurt to remember how he pretended to be happy so much that he even fooled himself. He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts and smiled at Remus. “How about some dessert?” Patton chirped. He really bounced back quickly. Remus wasn’t sure if Patton was serious or flirting so he just nodded his head. Patton clapped and made a happy noise. He led Remus up the stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door, the whole time Remus becoming more and more confused what this invitation entailed.Patton opened the door and allowed Remus to enter. He entered the small studio apartment with an impressive kitchen. Remus didn’t know how to play this. Did Patton think this was a date? Even so he was so sweet and kind that Remus didn’t pin him as the kind to give it up on the first date. Remus tentatively walked over and sat on the large bed. Patton looked across the room where Remus had taken a seat on his bed. It suddenly hit him how his offer may have sounded. Thoughts crashed against Patton’s mind. He quickly walked over and opened the fridge. Patton pulled out a few small caramel tartlets and brought them over to Remus. “Ta da!” Patton announced.

Oh of course. Remus thought. Of course Patton meant actual dessert. He’s a fucking baker.

Patton once again was alone but this time he was a lot happier. 

“They look great.” Remus said as he admired the lovely caramel tarts with chocolate shavings.

“Take them. As a thank you for tonight.” Patton pressed the plate into Remus’ arms. Remus took the plate and tried one of the tarts. The rich caramel melted in his mouth and blended perfectly with the buttery shortbread crust. “And tell Janus I said thanks too.”

“He’ll love these.” Remus mumbled, shoving another in his mouth. Patton giggled. Remus said his goodbyes and left.